


Flicker

by RenaRoo



Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TV 2003), Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-10
Updated: 2016-08-30
Packaged: 2018-05-12 23:08:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 31,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5684698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RenaRoo/pseuds/RenaRoo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Donatello has been sick for a long time, much longer than he would ever admit. His family just hopes they can help him before his light flickers out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Key

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Effar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Effar/gifts).



> This is an old, old fic that was a favorite of my very good friend @theeffar. I’ve decided (with much encouraging) that this fic is worth a look over again and some work up as well as an eventual ending! what an honor for the fic haha In all seriousness, I still love tmnt a lot and it’s a lot of fun getting to work on something for them again. 
> 
> So here’s to you, Effar <3 Thank you for having 10 years worth of patience on this story

The pressure of his own skull seemed to keep his head spinning. He felt enclosed within himself, stuck within some indescribable bubble. He could not escape the funk of the entrapment and it was beginning to make even his body stiff.

He rubbed the side of his head as he looked over it again.

Blue line, blue line, blue line -- over and over again. He could not turn away, he could not face any other obstacle just yet. He had to concentrate on the lines, the directions until the image was taken from his hands.

“It was a simple overlooked error, Donatello,” LeatherHead assured gently before offering his hand yet again. The highly intelligent crocodile smiled at his confused expression and pressed the offered object into his palm. “There is no reason to be ashamed of a simple mistake.”

“Yeah, I suppose so,” the turtle responded with a disdainful sigh, still eyeing the rolled up schematic before accepting the offered object in return. He looked at the key to the newly improved Sewer Slider, the one that was just waiting to be driven home, to be tested out now that it was completely fixed.

The turtle glanced to the machine resting by the garage entrance to his friend’s lair. It was such a simple fix, too. Donatello should have been able to do it himself. He had developed the Slider from scratch, after all. 

“I’m _not_ ashamed, by the way,” Don came to correct his friend. “I’m just not sure how I forgot something so simple as calibrating the fuel tank.”

At that, LeatherHead laughed. “My friend, perhaps it was _because_ the answer was so simple that you neglected it.

Don did not bother to dispute his fellow scientist. He knew full well that he would be incapable of translating his sense of loss to the gentle crocodile. On the other hand, Don had been feeling his unsettled state all day, if not longer than that. He _knew_ something, anything, was not right.

“What time is it anyway?” Don questioned as he finally received his much desired schematic from the croc as well. “I just remembered that I was supposed to pick up a pizza for everyone back home. Guess they had to wait longer than they expected.”

“I do wish you had told me you were running short on time,” LeatherHead murmured to himself before glancing down to his watch. His brow-like ridges formed a thin crest and his mouth upturned to a definite frown. “I suppose they went to bed without dinner is all.”

“What?” Don asked in confusion before crossing to LeatherHead’s side, looking at the time for himself. His eyes widened as he realized his error. “Eleven? Already?”

Sighing, LeatherHead nodded and maneuvered himself so that his young terrapin friend could better see the watch. He was looking over Donatello carefully as though he was beneath the crocodile’s microscope. 

It was a look that Don did not like but decisively chose to ignore. “I should get home. I guess I’ll have an angry and hungry Mikey to look forward to if nothing else,” he sighed as he tucked the schematic beneath his arm. “And perhaps and even angrier and _hungrier_ Raphael to look forward to!”

His dear friend, however, continued his scrutinizing gaze over Donatello. He seemed so intent on discovering something. _So_ intent, in fact, that Donatello could no longer ignore the piercing gaze from him.

“Something wrong, LeatherHead?” he asked, mocking as much as it was in concern.

“Yes,” the croc stated before grunting. “You.”

“Me?” the surprised turtle countered. He folded his arms as he cocked an eye ridge.

“Yes. You have been acting very strange as of late, my friend,” LeatherHead announced as he slowly walked around the turtle, gazing upon his body. “I am unsure of what it could be but for some time now you have been leading to many concerning matters with your work. Are you not getting enough sleep? Are you perhaps doing too many at once?”

“Is this about the calibrations?” Don sighed. “Look, LH, I’m embarrassed but they were just like you said: errors. And everyone can make errors every now and then, right? That’s what science is all about! Having a concept that one corrects.”

“You have never been incapable of correcting your own mistakes before, Donatello. Now that I consider it.” LeatherHead sighed and looked back toward his own lab. His expression softened more as the concern overwhelmed his features. “And it is not simply the calibrations. Leonardo has told me that quite frequently at home you--”

Having heard enough, Donatello rolled his eyes and made his way toward the hovercraft sled. “Oh, so you’ve been talking to _Leo,”_ he scoffed. “Well, that explains almost everything about this conversation.”

With that, the turtle slid into his driver’s seat and laid his schematics aside, starting the engine with the new key. “You still have the spare, right?” Don questioned.

“Yes, of course,” LeatherHead replied before stepping toward the machine. “Do be careful, Donatello. I do not wish for you to grow ill while you are driving or--”

Groaning, Don leaned against the doorframe and smiled knowingly at his worrisome friend. “You have been talking to Leo too much, LeatherHead. I’m absolutely fine,” he assured the crocodile. “You said it yourself, I’m probably just overlooking things. I’ll double check from now on.”

He raised an eye ridge. “Shall you be placing anymore aluminum in the microwave?”

The turtle’s cheeks flushed a violent red. “He told you that?” he questioned before pressing the button to his right and starting the propulsion of the Sewer Slider. He smirked. “Eleven at night or not, Leo’s _so_ going to get it! See you around, LeatherHead!”

“Farewell, Donatello,” the large reptile sighed as the Slider took off through the opened gate.

* * *

The candle’s small yet vibrant light swayed ever so gently as a rush of air entered the Lair. The aging master studied it in the quiet time it took him to wait for his son’s arrival. 

It hadn’t been long since he had sent Leonardo to bed, easing the apparent concerns of his eldest. Worrying, after all, was a _parent’s_ job.

Donatello was already parking near the garage entrance for the Sewer Slider, and judging by the noise he was making he seemed intent on staying in the lab that night rather than coming toward Splinter’s room. 

By the time Splinter made his way to his son rather than taking more time to wait for his son to come to him, he began to feel the pull of _something_ off. _Something_ not right. 

Something was missing, though Splinter wasn’t sure just what it could be. 

For his part, Donatello was just sitting in the vehicle, looking completely baffled. Seeing Splinter, he finally, and reluctantly, removed the keys. He almost seemed disheartened by the action. 

Jumping out of the Slider, Don stepped back, looking over the machine and scratching at his head. 

“Alright, LeatherHead was right,” he grumbled to himself before tucking the blue schematic under his arm away among his other desk items. “I’ve been letting this get to me too much.” 

Splinter hummed to himself, satisfied enough to see his son home and safe that he moved to the kitchen to gather some of the late night tea he had on stand by for Don’s return. 

He missed how Donatello’s gaze shifted over his vehicle again and again, still searching for _something_ to stand out, as he flipped the key over his fingers. 

“Well, whatever it was, it’s fixed. We’re fine,” Don hummed to himself before tossing the key in the air and grabbing it again, a smirk growing across his features as he looked to the lab. “ _And_ I’m not quite ready for anyone _else_ to trash you after just getting you back up and running.”

Moving to the shelves, Don begun the almost ritualistic counting: three shelves down, three books over. 

“Nope, I’m going to have to keep you hidden so that no one takes you out for a disastrous _test run.”_

There was a cringe from Donatello at the very thought.

“Here we go,” he said gently to the key before removing the third book. “Right here behind Mister George Ellis.” He shook his head at the dull read. His brothers thought that any _smart_ literature would pique the nerd-turtle’s interests. Unfortunately, _Before the Beginning_ did no such thing for him.

While tea was being poured carefully in the other room, Donatello was looking around his lab, trying to figure out _what he was missing._

“I’m always forgetting something,” Don muttered before shaking off the nagging and becoming subdued by his own tiredness. 

He shoved the key to the back of the empty shelf on the space before replacing the missing book. 

There was a certain amount of amusement he took from the prospect of outsmarting his brothers as he turned and made his way out into the Lair proper. It took everything in him to not groan in aggravation when he was met with Splinter standing in wait, a tray of freshly poured tea at the ready. 

“Ah,” Splinter said somewhat stiffly, his tail flicking behind him. “I see you have returned home for the night, my son. I am glad.”

The words, no matter how kind, cut deeply with the look in his eyes and the obvious time. Enough so it made him flinch. Donatello was _not_ used to being on the other side of his father’s irritation and wrath. 

That was something for Mike and Raph.

“My apologies, Master Splinter,” the youthful turtle replied as he neared. “I lost track of time at LeatherHead’s lab. I have good news, though! We fixed the Sewer Slider so--”

“Your brothers and I were very concerned, Donatello,” Splinter interrupted, his eyes more directly focused on Don. “We attempted to call you but you had left your phone here.”

Embarrassed, Don felt his cheeks flush yet again. “OH. _That’s_ what was missing.” He rubbed his neck, watching as Splinter grabbed a cup in one hand and offered it to Donatello. “I’m _so_ sorry, Master Splinter. It won’t happen again.”

As he accepted the tea, Donatello could see some relief grow more apparent in Splinter’s eyes. 

“It is fine, my son,” Splinter said, still maintaining his frown. “But all is not right, I sense.”

Feeling his aggravation rising once more, Don tilted hi shead to the side and sighed. “Have you been talking to Leo or LeatherHead?”

“I have been investigating within myself, Donatello,” Splinter corrected, setting the tray aside. “ I sense that not all is right with you. I simply do not know what it is.”

Rubbing his face, Don could no longer solve the itching within his body, the overwhelming irritation with everyone’s concern. Regarding his composure, however, led to the turtle to lower his hands and smile at his father.

“Maybe I’m just working too much,” he offered candidly. I guess I’m just stressed is all. It will pass.”

His father did not appear at all convinced, simply more concerned. “Are you certain that is all?”

“Positive,” Don replied almost immediately.

Splinter studied Donatello, seeming determined to prove the opposite was true. And, for a moment or two, Don caught himself irrationally concerned that he might actually _see_ something. 

But, of course, nothing happened. 

Sighing, Splinter nodded. “Very well then, Donatello. Please rest well and overcome this presence of frustration. I shall see you in the morning.”

“Thank you, Master,” Don cited before bowing obligingly. “Good night.”

“Good night, my son.”

As Don made his way toward the stairs, the old master moved to the lit candle. 

He waited for it to burn out.


	2. Lost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So I feel like this is a good time to point out that this original story was published in 2009/2010, which was not only when I was still in high school (yikes) it was also the first time I had tried processing what my family had gone through years before that, dealing with a family member who had advanced Alzheimer’s. To spoil things somewhat, I will point out that Alzheimer’s isn’t the exact diagnosis for this story, but my personal experiences influenced a lot of the portrayal of this story. So I’m in a weird position now, years later, trying to rewrite things to be more accurate/well written but also staying true to one of the first times in my life where I was working through something really emotional for me.
> 
> I’m saying this not because I don’t want people to discuss inaccuracies or critique anything. Quite the opposite. But I’m wanting to make it clear that this is something I feel was really healthy for me, something I needed to work through, and that I want to encourage other young (or old!) writers out there to do for themselves in as nurturing of a community as fandom communities can be. 
> 
> Special thanks to @goodluckdetective, Capucine and Ikara on AO3 and tumblr for the support!

Leaning over the door frame, Raphael released a distinct growl of irritation. He wasn’t any more content with the situation than he had been five minutes before. So while everyone else turned the Lair upside down, he remained in the driver’s seat of the Sewer Slider. 

He was waiting.

Leonardo and Donatello searched the most desperately, pursuing the item like it was the Grail.

When he opened the desk drawers for the third time, Leo let out an audible sigh and looked back to his frantic brother. “Donny, _none_ of these drawers?”

And like every time before, Don released an agitated “I don’t know!”

Shaking his head, the leader began to scoot aside the contents of the drawers, half-heartedly questing for the item now that it was more obvious how futile their search was becoming. “Well, when’s the last time you saw them? You drove last night so it can’t be _that_ far.”

“You’re not listening to me!” don growled almost viciously in return. By the time Leo turned to give him a puzzled look, the brainy turtle chucked some cardboard boxes full of science magazines and articles across the floor. Don was in a near frenzy. “I don’t _know!”_

 _“Sure_ he doesn’t,” Raph grouched from the vehicle. He was giving an irritable look Don’s way. “He just doesn’t want me taking his new and improved toy out on a run.”

Taking the bait almost immediately, Don faced Raph and shouted, “I don’t know where it is, Raph!”

“Bullshit!”

“Alright, Raph, that’s enough!” Leo snapped as he slammed the desk drawers shut. “You could always get off your high horse and help us find the keyes if you really cared that much.”

Don was beginning to pale as he scratched the left side of his scalp. An expression of complete loss overtook him, and desperation was leaking more and more in by the minute. 

Leo just felt his own worry increase as he watched his brother. Keys didn’t seem worth getting _that_ torn up over.

“Stop worrying, Don,” Leo said shortly. He threw Raph another warning look. “We could use some more helping hands – and that goes for _you_ and for,” Leo stepped back, arching toward the lab door, “You, too, Michelangelo!”

“Hey! I’m searching!” Mike yelled back. he shifted more on the couch and began clicking around on the remote. “Not on this channel. Not on this channel. Not on this channel.’

Leo glared at their youngest brother before realizing Don was back at his side, rubbing his arm nervously.

“I don’t know where it is, Leo,” he said, voice tight. “I _really_ don’t.”

Baffled, Leo turned to his brother and put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “I get it, Don. It’s alright. _Really._ It’s not that big of a deal.” Looking around the lab, Leo tried desperately to lock onto any sort of clue. “Did you check on any of your experiments before going to bed?” 

Don’s eye ridges creased. “No.”

Leo looked at him studiously. “You didn’t? For _sure?”_

Donatello grew another sickly look before shaking his head. His eyes scattered around the room nervously, checking everything that wasn’t one of his brothers. “No…” he admitted slowly. “I mean… I don’t remember.”

Staring at his brother, Leo felt a strange, foreign fear in his stomach. He had no earthly idea what was happening with Don. 

Slowly, Leo asked, “You don’t remember anything after you came in last night, do you?”

Taking a collective breath, Don looked to Leo, eyes blown wide. “I don’t remember coming _in_ last night.”

The information struck Leonardo like a lightning bolt. He wasn’t sure how to process the information, not sure what it could mean.

He looked back to Raphael only to be met by his hotheaded brother’s utter disbelief. “Oh bull–”

“That is quite enough, Raphael.”

Leo looked to the door and watched as Master Splinter walked in, Mikey at his heels. Their master stopped and looked directly to Raph as he continued. “Your brother came home late. It is expected that a few memories are clouded with tiredness.”

For his part, Don did not look so sure. “But I don’t remember _anything!”_ Every word he said was followed by hollow realization written all across his face. Donatello was freaking out. “I… I don’t even remember leaving LeatherHead’s. At _all._ I… I don’t remember where I left the keys–”

Shrugging, Mikey replied, “Well, you _had_ to have them to drive. So no big deal. They’re around. We don’t have to find them _right now.”_

 _“_ Yeah we do!” Raph growled, finally leaping over the side of the Slider and making his way to the group. “I want to take her for a spin. And I _bet_ you the minute I’m gone or give up, Donny’ll drop this whole charade and whip out his keys again.”

Master Splinter’s tail thrashed the ground like a whip. “Raphael, I said that was enough,” he warned. 

But Don had already raised to the bait. “I wouldn’t do something like that, Raph! I’d just tell you _no.”_

Seeing the need to end things fast, Leo stepped in. “It’s not that important, Don,” he promised. “We’ll just use a spare for now–”

Rounding on Leo with unexpected brashness, Don gnashed his teeth and yelled, “I don’t _want_ to use a spare key, Leo! I want _my_ keys! Why aren’t you paying attention to me!?”

The lab grew silent. Leo felt like his eye ridges were raising above his mask as he looked back at Don.

Mikey broke the silence with a low, “ _Whoa,_ dude… chill.”

Don’s angry gaze would not leave Leo’s face, even as Master Splinter stepped to Don’s side and gently took Don’s hand into his. “You are not in good health, Donatello. Come. Lie down for a while.”

Without looking their father’s way, Don pulled his hand back. Finally, at least, he looked away from Leo, letting the oldest feel like he could breathe again. 

“I don’t need to lie down,” Don replied almost sourly. “I need my keys…” He rubbed his forehead. “And an aspirin. That’s it.”

Latching onto that bit of news, Leo dared to step forward again. “If you have a headache, you really _should_ lie down and rest for a bit–”

Almost immediately, Don angrily turned back on Leo. “ _You_ are giving me a headache. So back _off_ and leave me alone, will you!?”

Finally giving up, Leo raised his hands and shook his head. “Fine. Do whatever. I don’t care. Just do it, Don’t care.”

Without another word, Don stormed out of the lab and went toward the kitchen, leaving his incredibly perplexed brothers and father. 

Mikey scratched at his head. “What the shell?”

Raph looked to Leo. “You’re gonna let him get away with that?” he asked critically.

Leo glared at Raph. “Stop making it worse,” he warned.

“What am I _possibly_ doing that could make it worse?” Raph demanded just before there was a crash and uncharacteristic scream of “ _FUCK”_ from the kitchen.

All at once, the family mobilized. They raced to the kitchen before arriving and seeing Don, head bowed, fist through the door of the microwave. Everyone was positively astonished, as encapsulated by Mikey’s “Holy shit, dude.”

Don stood there for a moment before blinking and pulling his hand out of the microwave door. He looked at his family expectantly. “I can’t find my keys.”

No one could manage a single word in response.

Leo waited as Don grabbed a towel, wetted it, and wrapped his cut knuckles before heading back out to the kitchen and toward the sewer door. He wasted no time in chasing after his brother as he realized what Don was doing. 

“Don! Wait!” Leo shouted. “Where are you going?”

Don stopped and looked at Leo incredulously. “I gave LeatherHead the spare. I’m going over to his place to get it back.” He then turned right back for the door. 

Immediately, Leo reached to stop his brother only for Splinter’s arm to intercept him. Leo looked for an explanation from his father before watching as Don left them through the sewer door. Leo felt his chest clench painfully. 

“Donatello needs time alone,” Splinter announced darkly. “We shall honor that for the time being.”

“But, Master Splinter, he’s hardly acting like Don,” Raph said back. “Seriously, did you see the microwave? Something’s screwy with him right now–”

“Master Splinter said for _now,_ Raph. Not forever, so drop it,” Leo snapped bitterly. He shot a dirty glare his brother’s way. “Hope your stupid keys are worth it.”

Mike just frowned. “I dunno, I’m with Raph. Maybe one of us should tail Don. Y’know. Make sure he’s okay.” He paused and looked warily to Leo. “Well, maybe _you_ shouldn’t, Leo. He might kill you if he sees you.”

“Hush,” Master Splintered beckoned, turning to face all three of them at once. “Donatello travels a familiar path to the home of a good and trusted friend. Leave him be. It is what he needs from us for now.” he paused and raised his brows. “That and for the three of you to clean the mess made in search of these keys while he is out. Is that understood?”

They ducked their heads. “Yes, Master.”

Waiting, they watched as Splinter went back to his room. The three remaining brothers then looked curiously at each other. 

“So,” Mike said. “Donny said a bad word.”

Shaking their heads, Leo and Raph headed off to start cleaning broken glass and thrown around magazines. There was an unspoken agreement to bring neither back up when Don returned. 

* * *

_There were lights and noise – to many noises and they came out of nowhere. It was like waking up behind a jet engine._

_He didn’t know how he got there. He didn’t know where he was going. But_ why?

_Why didn’t he know where home was?_

_The crossing lane was blaring horns at people walking by. And for a moment, without a disguise, he was tempted to join them._

_But there was something wrong there. Something wrong with_ him.

_He turned the corner and looked for a street sign._

_When he found it, he was horrified._

_It was so familiar, but he couldn’t read it._

* * *

Even with the television on, Michelangelo found himself staring at the clock, the walls, his brothers. He was watching anything _but_  the television and it was maddening.

It was maddening because two hours had passed and Don was still not back.

As the second hour drew to a close, Master Splinter entered the living area quietly. His face was troubled as he looked between each and every one of them. It was like he was counting, hoping their fourth would miraculously be present. 

Because while enough time had passed to cause worry, it wasn’t enough to justify searching yet to an angry Donatello.

It was so quiet someone could have heard a pin drop until Leo’s shellcell began vibrating in his belt, startling all of them at once.

Mikey leaped out of his seat and scurried to Leo’s side. Raph moved forward almost begrudgingly. They all watched as Leo quickly flipped the phone on and held it up to his ear.

“Hello!?” Leo questioned hopefully. A look of relief came across his face. “Don!”

At once, the tension broke across the room. Mikey released a breath he didn’t even know he was holding. Everything _had_ to be fine.

But Leo didn’t give them a nod or a wave to further their ease their concerns. Instead, Leo’s brow furrowed and he brought his other hand up to hold the phone as well.

“I’m sorry… What was that?” he asked hesitantly. “Well, what do you see?”

Quietly, Mikey looked to the others, but they seemed at just as much of a loss.

“That’s not a very good description,” Leo said lowly before turning away from them completely. “Do you see any stores? What about really tall buildings? Anything?”

Feeling very unsettled, Mike looked to Raph instead. 

Raphael scowled and stepped forward, tapping on Leo’s shoulder vigorously only for Leonardo to snap and point at Raph to move before holding his cell closer to his head. 

“Okay, calm down,” Leo said soothingly. “We’ll come to you… How? I’ll use the trackers in our phones… _You_ built them, I don’t think anyone else can use it… Yeah.” The leader’s eye ridges furrowed further as he continued. “Okay. You’ll be fine. Just stay in the shadows where you are.”

Leo hung up and stared at his phone as he brought it down from his head. 

“What happened?” Mike blurted out.

Already with his Sai in his hands, Raph growled, “Was it the Foot?”

Blinking absently, Leo finally shook his head to them both. 

Master Splinter stepped up between Mike and Raph. He looked carefully collected as he ordered, “Leonardo. Tell me what happened to Donatello.”

Slowly, Leo drew his gaze form his phone and, slightly mortified, answered.

“He… got lost.”


	3. Blank

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I feel like this is a good time to point out that this original story was published in 2009/2010, which was not only when I was still in high school (yikes) it was also the first time I had tried processing what my family had gone through years before that, dealing with a family member who had advanced Alzheimer’s. To spoil things somewhat, I will point out that Alzheimer’s isn’t the exact diagnosis for this story, but my personal experiences influenced a lot of the portrayal of this story. So I’m in a weird position now, years later, trying to rewrite things to be more accurate/well written but also staying true to one of the first times in my life where I was working through something really emotional for me.
> 
> Special thanks to Capucine on AO3 and tumblr for the support!

His eyes shifted, following the couple that walked by him.

She was in a black dress and heels. He was in a brown overcoat and shiny dress shoes.

They passed him. 

Were they from a movie?

Don’s head ached. He bent over, grasping the sides of his throbbing skull. He willed it to stop its painful beat. 

Sitting in the shadows, he waited.

He felt like he had been waiting for such a very long time. 

How long had it been again? Ages? Should he have moved? Should he have left?

He honestly didn’t even know. 

“I don’t even know where I am,” he muttered to himself as he looked around.

But that didn’t make _sense._ Not in his city. Not after a lifetime of navigating those streets with his brothers – above ground _and_ underground. 

As his head and vision cleared, Don grew progressively more concerned with how he got there to begin with. 

“Should I call Leo?” he asked himself as he rubbed his head gingerly.

Thinking straight again felt like _such_ a relief. 

Deciding to call his brothers became an increasingly obvious solution with the haze in his vision evaporating. 

Almost without a second thought, he reached for his belt and produced his shellcell. But as he opened it, he began to experience the most bizarre sense of deja vu. 

Curiously, he clicked to look at this most recently called numbers. His stomach ran cold as he saw that he had, in fact, dialed Leonardo’s number nearly fifteen minutes beforehand. 

Which posed the question: _why didn’t he remember doing it?_

Growling with aggravation, Don held his head and shook. “Pull yourself together, Donatello!” he pleaded. “What’s the _matter_ with you?”

Looking toward the street again, he froze in horror.

His eyes shifted, following the couple that walked by him. She was in a black dress and heels. He was in a brown overcoat and shiny dress shoes. 

They passed him.

_Were they from a movie?_

It was right at that moment that Don felt his whole body go numb. 

He _knew._ He _knew_ something was terribly, terribly wrong. In ways that he would never possibly express in a way others could understand, he _knew_ that nothing was right with him in that cold, pressing instant. 

“But _what_ is wrong with me?” he demanded fiercely before covering his eyes with his hands.

His body curled up, trying bury into himself, trying to escape to that instinctive comfort of his shell when he could hear and feel the sounds of a rapidly approaching vehicle. One he knew so well that even in his state he could tell what it was and who was operating it. 

Which was a good thing, because Don wasn’t sure if he could bare to look at his brothers right then and there. 

The vehicle slowed to a stop and Leo and Mikey wasted little time in leaping out and rushing to Don’s sides. 

Raph remained hesitantly behind them. He watched instead from a distance as they neared Don and began to coax him out of his near fetal position. 

“Donny, c’mon,” Mike begged as he got down on his knees by his brother. “It’s okay, dude. Anybody can get lost. Especially when they get sick.”

Don almost had to bite his tongue at that. He shook his head instead. “I don’t get sick like this. We don’t know… This isn’t sick. This is… _wrong.”_

Kneeling, Leo reached to feel Don’s forehead with the back of his hand. 

“Well, you’re right there,” he said. “You don’t feel like you have a fever. _But,_ I’d wager that headache you had before came back, didn’t it?”

As Leo paused, Don came to realize that his head _had_ been hurting the whole time. It was such a dull, constant throb that he had barely registered it as such. But it was there all the same, so Don nodded.

“Well, there. That explains it somewhat,” Leo replied. 

“I’m sorry,” Don muttered miserably. 

“For what, dude?” Mike smirked, looping one arm with Don while Leo took on the other. 

They hoisted Don off the ground and he felt himself become slightly disoriented with the weightlessness. But his brother held fast and didn’t let him fall until his wavering feet found their placement. 

“For… calling you to pick me up,” Don continued, a tight panic working its way into his chest. He could feel his breathing beginning to restrict. A panic attack. “I don’t understand how any of this happened. I don’t even know how I got here. Or _why_ I got scared–”

“Don, you can call us any time,” Leo reminded him, a worried look forming on his face. “You know that, right? That’s what brothers are for.” His eyes shifted toward Raphael. 

Raph was still standing by the car door, his expression hard and unreadable.

Leo’s teeth gritted. “It’s _not_ a big deal. _Right,_ Raph?”

Almost despite himself, Don began looking to Raph, searching for his brother’s answer. 

Raphael in turn seemed fixated on Don as well. He finally broke eye contact, though and came to his senses. A worried look passed on his face for just an instant before dropping back into more of himself. He nodded to Don and started to get back in the car. “Yeah, sure. No big deal, Don.”

Pulling his arms free from Leo and Mike, Don gave a very exhausted breath and shook his head. “Just take me home. Now.” He bit down hard on his molars, reconsidered his words, and then pleaded, “ _Please.”_

Leo and Mike looked to each other and nodded. 

Taking a hold of Don’s shoulder, Leo took the initiative to guide him toward the van. “It’s not a problem, Don,” Leo assured him. “Is your head still hurting or anything? Do you need an aspirin or something?”

“No,” Don muttered, feeling that fogginess growing over his vision again. “Just home, Leo. _Please.”_

As he settled in a seat, Don could hardly bring himself to even take issue with Leo buckling him in. His eyes slid closed and he waited quietly as everything around him became slower, muffled. It was almost as if it was all playing to the tune of his head’s throbbing. 

“You get in the back with Leo and Don. I’ll worry about driving.”

“You sure–”

“Mikey, I don’t know how to play therapist. Just do it.”

There were two car door slams which made him flinch but Don didn’t feel anything beyond the relief that washed over him when the vehicle finally began moving again. 

He didn’t open his eyes until Michelangelo was suddenly hugging him, seemingly out of nowhere. 

When he opened his eyes to look, Don saw a beaming grin on Mikey’s face – as if he couldn’t have been happier with the simple fact that Don was alive and found.

“You worried us, Donny,” Mike said, voice uncharacteristically small. “You look like shit, but, hey! You’re alive! You’re going to be okay.”

“Okay?” Don repeated, feeling a sudden burst of outrage. “Mikey, _what_ is okay about this?” He pulled out his shellcell and waved it to both Leo and Mike. “I don’t even _remember_ calling you guys to come.”

When they stared back at him, both a little lost, Don felt his throat close off a muffled scream.

“I’m sorry, Donny,” Mike responded, his joyous outlook quickly dissolving. “I mean, I was just saying it to… let you know I was happy you’re alive. That you’re not hurt. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“We don’t know I’m not hurt,” Don said, looking away from his brothers. “We… we don’t know anything about what’s going on.”

As if silencing his family had become Don’s new super power, the entire van grew eerily silent. 

After the air grew almost too tense to breathe, Leo let out a short sigh and looked to Don’s face, searching it desperately. 

“What?” Don asked testily.

“You don’t remember this area at _all,_ Don?” Leo pressed. 

“No,” Don said without hesitation.

“Not even a _little_ bit?” Mike continued with Leo’s lead.

“No,” Don said again before drawing in a breath and looking back toward the window. “I… _think_ I should. I know I should somehow recognize it but… I just can’t place why. I see it all and I just draw… a blank. Or something. It’s like there’s a file deleted. But it’s not a computer, it’s my _brain.”_

His brothers became quiet, their looks to each other desperate and lost.

Up front, Raphael kept driving. He didn’t so much as look at them through the rearview mirror. He went faster.

There was something wrong with him. Don _knew it._ He knew it was something awful, something _dreadful._ But no knowledge of that fact drew him any closer to the real answers.

“Obviously I _should_ know it,” he said, looking to each of his brothers. “How bad is it? It’s bad. You wouldn’t be acting like this if it wasn’t bad.”

Leo stared at Don, not sure how to explain the truth.

Mike looked at his brother but could not suppress the facts nearly as easily as Leo did. “Donny, you _have_ to know where we are right now. You just _do.”_

 _“Why?”_ Don demanded. Where am I?”

“You’re in the neighborhood we grew up in,” Leo said, not looking at Don as he answered. “Our old Lair… it wasn’t far from that alley. We once played in the dumpsters there as kids while Master Splinter gathered supplies.”

Silence overwhelmed the vehicles. 

Don stared at his brothers, waiting for them to tell him they were joking, that it wasn’t serious. That he could not have possibly ever forgotten the very neighborhood they grew up in. That he got lost in the sewers he knew like the back of his hand.

There was _no way_ Don would ever forget those. 

“No it’s not,” Don said firmly. “Don’t lie to me.”

“We’re not lying,” Mikey explained somberly. “It’s… it’s really where we grew up. I promise – turtle’s honor.”

He leaned back into his seat, glaring at them. Don then slowly came to terms with the fact that their expressions never changed. That they _were_ being serious.

"No,” he said, more disbelieving. “No… no, that’s just not possible. I can’t… How does someone forget their _home?”_

They remained silent as Don consoled himself, drew further back into his seat and closed his eyes, muttering as he walked himself through what had happened before he woke up.

“Look, it’s probably something very simple,” Leo explained genuinely. “Do you remember anything between leaving the Lair and arriving here? Taking a wrong turn? Anything forcing you to surface.”

Donatello shook his head. “No, I don’t remember anything like that,” he muttered, his composure at last coming back. “Just my head hurting and,” he mused and looked up, gazing past them as if looking at a scene. “Wait, I do remember having to go to the surface because the tunnel was collapsed.”

“Alright, good,” Leo nodded. “That should be the tunnel right in front of our old lair.” The leader’s brow furrowed. “But why were you going there?”

There was a moment where Don remained quiet, his expression was more collected than before. 

Finally, he said, “I don’t know.”

“Nothing at all?” Mike asked. 

“It’s like a blank spot in my brain,” Don replied as he lowered his head. “What’s the matter with me? It’s like I’m staring into a fog all of the sudden. I know _of_ things, like how I _should_ be able to answer, but I have no ideas of what goes in between.”

The explanation didn’t seem to win any further understanding. 

“It’s like everything I thought I knew is disappearing before my eyes,” Don continued, quieter. “And I don’t know why.”

As no one responded, Don realized that he was not the only one confused. 

But more horrifying than that, he realized his brothers had no way of helping him. 

"Don, don’t be scared,” Leo said softly. “It’s not a big deal. You are stressed, I’ve been telling you that for weeks now, haven’t I? Warning you about overwork and not taking care of yourself.”

Reluctantly, Don nodded. 

“When we get home, no lab,” Leo prepared him. “Nap, watch a movie, just talk to us. It doesn’t matter, we’re just being _calm_ about this. We’ll tackle it as we understand it more.”

“Alright, fine,” he breathed out before looking to Mikey and Leo. “I’m just… how can you be _so_ sure that it’s only stress?”

“I’m not,” Leo said truthfully. “I just can’t allow it to be anything too serious.”

Raph drove without a single additional input. He just _drove._

Instead of worrying any more about Raph’s reaction, however, Don kept himself centered, and tried desperately to think of any world in which Leo’s suggestion of stress could be on the mark.


	4. Stirred

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to give my eternal thanks to @theeffar for always supporting this story and everything else I do <3 And for kicking my butt in gear to this chapter out now ;P
> 
> Special thanks to @turtlesinsweaters, @slightlycrookedletters, NutellaoMutt, kiipie, and Ikara on AO3 and tumblr for the support!

As much as he stared at it, Don couldn’t help but feel like the light wasn’t real.

It wasn’t as if there were spots to his vision, just the light – one, singular – like a movie projector shining on his face. It penetrated his gaze unlike anything he had experienced before. 

Even with his eyes screwed tightly shut, the light remained. It was still there. He felt like he was being eclipsed by the light, and he swore he could feel it warming his chest as it bounced through his body. 

He was being interrogated by his own mind – he’d never had a hangover but he couldn’t help but think that this was what one was like.

It’d explain why he couldn’t remember a single thing about the previous night.

Struck by the terror of yet again not remembering, Don stirred from his thoughts and dreams and sat stock still on his bed.

For some reason beyond his comprehension, his stomach churned and he inexplicably decided that all of this nonsense was his brothers’ faults. Someway. Somehow.

“How? _Why?”_ he demanded of himself, only able to linchpin that burning anger toward his family once he questioned its very existence. 

Where did _that_ come from?

Letting the emotions run dry, finally Don was filled with a soothing relief.

He rubbed his head and took deep breaths, not realizing how much his skull had been throbbing until it had stopped.

He could trace his lucid memories at that time and almost immediately–

“My keys.”

The words emerged from his throat before the thought had ever crossed his mind. 

It honestly felt like someone else was in the room to say it – the voice, the urging tone, it didn’t even feel like his own. 

But once the thought was there, Donatello couldn’t bring himself to ignore it. 

Around those two words was an emerging ball of stress and horror, twisted and moving deep within his chest. Something that had been there below the surface for longer than he could remember. 

How long had it been since he lost those keys?

“Doesn’t matter,” he retorted at the thought. The turtle got up and walked into the very _dimly_ lit room, stumbling on the few objects in the darkness as he reached the door. “Doesn’t matter when I lost the keys because I’m going to find them now.”

The first step into the hall was blinding, blazing. He could barely keep track of how intense the light versus the darkness had become since he woke up. 

At last, the phase left and the turtle was left blinking in the hall, standing dumbly. The door shut behind him and he found that he could barely remember why he left his room at all. 

The moment was lost until he felt that tightness in his chest again.

Like a lightbulb turning on his head he felt a thought appear.

_The living room._

Donatello knew, just _knew,_ that the keys were somewhere in the living room! The concept made so much sense as he thought it over. He had never checked the living room the day before, even though it was common knowledge throughout the family that anything missing just _had_ to be between the couch cushions.

It only made _sense._

In a blink, Don was on his knees in front of the couch and the cushions were thrown back onto the floor. 

There were no keys in sight. Don shook his head.

“Where are the keys?” he growled at himself, shutting his eyes.

Almost immediately, another white flash crossed his vision.

Ordinarily this would have seemed like an odd occurrence, one that was simply not right. But once the flash was over, the importance of it faded from his mind. Instead he was wondering where his keys were, if they were between the cushions.

“You were searching for something, my son?”

Spinning around, Don was shocked to see that his master was standing behind him, a worn expression on his face. Master Splinter gripped to his walking stick tightly, his ears slightly back and his brows noticeably furrowed.

“I just…” Don paused, thought over his last few minutes of searching. “I’m just looking for my keys,” he explained as precisely as he could. By the time he was satisfied with the answer and looked to his father, Splinter’s expression was quite anguished. “Something the matter, Sensei?”

The gentle father sighed and shook his head. “I sincerely hope not, my son. However, I would like to speak with you privately in my quarters.

 _That_ sounded like being in trouble. With a quiet pick up of his heartbeat, Don forced a laugh. “Sorry, Master, but… that sure sounds like something’s the matter.”

The elder rat shook his head with the slightest signs of a smile battling to form. And failing.

When Splinter turned to leave, Don knew better than to avoid joining him. 

Within another blink, he was on his knees, looking at the table before him. He blinked a few times, unsure if the indescribable flash had been at fault again or not. The thought passed as the gentle rat turned from the corner and sat tea on the table before Don. 

Had he missed something?

“You do not recall the night before then?”

Donatello stared at his father as if some foreign language had escaped his lips. He felt as though he had just walked into the middle of someone else’s conversation.

In a sense, he _had._

Excuse me?” he asked.

“Do you not recall the night before?” Splinter asked again quietly, a suspicious glare in his eyes.

Slowly, the turtle shook his head. The feeling in his stomach brought attention to itself through another icy touch. And yet Don felt like it had been simultaneously the first and second time it had happened since he sat there. 

He swallowed dryly and glanced at his father, then the table. His fingers fiddled in his lap.

“Not what you’re talking about,” Don replied carefully, pretending to be alert to the conversation at hand. He glanced up and saw immediately that Splinter was too alert for it. He panicked slightly. “I mean, last night was a little cloudy.”

The alley formed again.

His eyes shifted, following the couple that walked by him. She was in a black dress and heels. He was in a brown overcoat and shiny dress shoes. They passed him. Were they from a movie?

Her head of hair turned, he almost could see her pale cheek.

There was a blaring light, like a movie projector.

“You remember nothing?”

Don looked at his father weakly. The visage of the couple was gone. “No,” he replied. 

His hand raised up to his temples and he rubbed feverishly. The pain was splitting, whatever it was. He just wanted to crawl back into his bed and go to sleep. This was all too painful. _Whatever_ it was.

“Take this, my son,” Splinter’s voice coaxed after an immeasurable amount of time.

Whether Don was willing or not, a warm broth made its way down his throat. He looked to his father, relieved at the warmth reaching his throbbing head and how it chased away the icy pain of his stomach.

“Thank you,” Don muttered as the cup was taken away from his lips. He glanced at his father, the fear that was so easily masked usually was riddling ever wrinkle. It scared Don. He could not focus on it or it would eat him alive. “What was that? It really helped.”

“A herbal remedy,” the rat responded gently. He rested in his seat again, touching his chest as if to check his own heart. Don questioned whether or not the episode had been worth the scare. “Do you need this soothing more often, Donatello?”

Slowly, he nodded. “Yes, Master.”

It certainly couldn’t hurt…

* * *

Leo was surprised with himself and his lack of practiced diligence that morning. He usually expected better of himself.

Master Splinter had, of course, made the right call with not having training that morning. _Especially_ after the shock to their systems that had been the scare with Don. And Don himself definitely could use the extra sleep.

But Leo was the leader, the example. He had no excuse for stopping even when the rest of them did. Leo had to be completely on top of everything he could be to maintain some control.

For some reason, though, Leo found himself uncharacteristically sleeping in.

Maybe it was exhaustion from dealing with the craziness of the night before. Maybe it was a fluke. As Leo set up for his belated training session, he honestly didn’t know which felt more likely.

And in truth, self reflection was low on his priorities when the question of what was wrong with Don was eating him up. 

Privately, Leo wished for a fight or a skirmish. A physical challenge he could see all the way through, overcome, and lead his brothers through as well.

He knew what to do with a fight. He was hopelessly drowning when it came to whatever was going on with Don.

He paused his cleansing ritual momentarily as he reached for the dojo’s candles to light them and found them to have been freshly burnt. A tell tale sign of Master Splinter’s recent presence usually. But that morning it seemed to be less so.

Splinter rarely burnt new candles while the old still had wicks.

Confused and curious about the development, Leo stepped further toward the hall where the tatami mats Master Splinter kept for meditation were kept. And, furthering Leonardo’s level of surprise, he found one of his brothers already there.

“Raph?” 

Raphael wasn’t meditating but he did sit on the mat usually designated as his own – a contemplative and even worried look on his face. There was no telling how long he had been sat there in thought.

When Raph finally scowled Leo’s ay, he snapped, “Piss off, I’m not leaving.”

“Wouldn’t ask you to,” Leo replied, stepping further in before leaning back against the wall. “I’m just surprised you’re up already.”

Making a face, Raph crossed his arms across his chest. “Who are you? My mom?”

“No,” Leo said almost too easily. “Just your concerned brother. Trying to look out for you.”

There was an almost wry twist to Raph’s lips as he stared back at Leo. “Is it bad that I feel like that’s almost worse?” he asked.

Leo didn’t share in his brother’s bemusement, too focused on the puffy rings around Raphael’s eyes, or the slump of his brother’s shoulders.

The other turtle hadn’t slept yet at all, it wasn’t that he got up with the promptness Leo had thus far lacked that morning. It was enough to make Leo sigh and take his usual mat by Raph.

“ _Why_ didn’t you go to sleep?” he asked, leaving no room for Raph to protest the truth.

“Maybe I’m a masochist and like the occasional sleep deprivation,” Raph countered in his typically scathing way. 

Taking a breath, Leo leaned back. “I’m worried about all this mess with Don, too.”

“No one said that’s why I’m up!” Raph growled. “Stop projecting.”

“Oh, shut up,” Leo rolled his eyes. “You’re worried. You have feelings other than bitter, everyone already knows it. Get over it.”

“What’s there to be worried about?” Raph demanded. “Everything’s _fine!”_ He paused, huffing heavily before turning a distinguishably worried eye to Leo. “Should I be worried?”

He was so genuine, so open for once – Leo knew Raph need to hear it was all good. That _they_ were all good.

But Leo couldn’t lie.

“I don’t know,” he answered truthfully. “But I think… maybe we should be a little worried.”


	5. Under Control

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is weird because I know for a fact that I wrote this chapter originally almost eight years ago, and yet when I was rewriting it, reading over it for review and refreshing, I was genuinely surprised with how much I remember about actually writing it. I know that sounds weird, and it is weird, but it’s true. I actually remember sitting down in my high school media class and writing it in the drafts on ff.net and I remember the whole process. It’s really weird and for the life of me I have no idea why this particular chapter is something I remember so clearly. But I do! So I thought I’d share
> 
> Special thanks to @slightlycrookedletters, NutellaoMutt, and Ikara on AO3 and tumblr for the support!

The training run for the night was quickly approaching and in an unusual display, Don’s brothers were waiting around at the Lair entrance rather than taking off as soon as possible.

He had not missed the way his brothers had left him the night before, nor did he miss the surprised and guilty looks that had spread between the three of them when Don had remembered to bring it up that morning. 

The general consensus had been that Splinter’s herbal remedies had worked unexpected wonders on Donatello’s fading memories and leaving him behind was officially interfering with their attempts to walk on eggshells around him.

Even if it was _very_ obvious that some people still wanted him to not leave for the night.

Don didn’t have much patience for _any_ of the attitudes dealing with him lately.

“Oh, are we waiting around this time?” he asked with uncharacteristic bite. 

His brothers shifted uncomfortable looks toward one another before Leo turned his gaze to Don.

“Are you feeling better?” Leo asked sincerely. 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Don replied, shrugging the concern off as if it were completely uncalled for. “That herbal stuff has been a lot stronger than the aspirin. But I guess it’s what I needed. I haven’t had a single headache.”

Raph’s near constant scowl deepened. “Yeah. Okay. _That’s_ why Master Splinter has been worried sick. Because everything’s fine.”

Don barely thought twice about ignoring the remark. It was almost natural to.

It _did_ bother him that Master Splinter was still so clearly worried for him. But at the same time their father was always worried. And Don’s head _had_ become more manageable lately.

Which made Don’s personal most pressing concern be his constant coddling from his family. 

He was more than a little tired of being treated like the lost little child.

Though it was a particularly redundant question by that point and time in the conversation, Michelangelo took to bat with the question next, “We can just play roof tag if you’d rather go with us, Don.”

“I already promised April,” he reminded them. “My science mags have been building up at her place for weeks now and she’s been nice enough to not just pile them in the garbage for me instead. So before her apartment’s filled with them or I get any _more_ behind on them, I’m going to collect them.”

The nerdy after thought actually did a lot to put his three brothers at ease.

“There’s still no reason to not walk together for the first leg,” Leo offered. 

Don sighed and nodded, knowing it was probably the best compromise available to him at the moment. 

“Sure thing, Leo,” he replied with no heart as they all stepped out together.

It was strange when the door peeled open and Don felt overwhelmed by the light from the other side. He wouldn’t have thought _too_ much about it if he hadn’t been met by the instant relief of his brothers’ eyes no longer being on the back of his head. 

It made him feel strangely alone as he ended up staring into the alley suddenly before him. 

He spun around in surprise at the sound of feet tapping along on the sidewalk. 

His eyes shifted, following the couple that walked by him. She was in a black dress and heels. He was in a brown overcoat and shiny dress shoes. 

They passed him.

Were they from a movie?

Her head of hair turned, he almost could see her pale cheek. 

Then she was gone. The alley was gone, swallowed up by the light yet again. He scowled.

Blinking through the beaming light, Donatello was finally able to look through the darkened blots across his vision. 

They expanded into bookshelves and wooden floors – all so familiar. All so well _known._

Where once the couple stood was the brightest blur of all, one that manifested into green eyes and red hair and the most familiar face of all in his sights. 

No longer was there a mysterious woman. Just April.

“Donny? Don? Are you listening?”

He stared back at her and wondered what the _shell_ had just happened. 

It felt like just a blink before he had been with his brothers at home. And judging by April’s face, Don was projecting rather loudly that something was _very_ off. 

“Did you just… blank out on me?” she asked, overtly concerned.

Rubbing at his head, Don lied through his teeth. “No, I’m fine. Just a headache is all. Could you just repeat the last bit?”

She stared at him like h was some lesser species of fungi and tilted her head back. “I said it’s a shame that herd immunity is failing due to the lack of immunizations,” she said.

“I agree,” he answered a moment too soon. His eyes narrowed at her concerned expression. “What? What did I say? Why are you looking at me like…” He trailed off and sighed. “That had nothing to do with what we were talking about. Does it?”

“Not even the same _branch_ of science, Don,” she replied.

He did not want to see the same mask of concern and distrust begin to cloud April’s looks his way. He was sick enough of them from everyone else. 

But even as he thought as much, Don was mortified to have the milkiness of his sight returning from the mysterious and purposeless light. 

“I’m sorry, April,” he muttered as he felt the bottom of his gaze be lost to the light, obstructing the focus he had on her face. He squinted in retaliation. “I was daydreaming. Could we start the whole conversation over again?”

She stared back at him and shook her head. “I’m sorry. I _know._ I know I promised you I wouldn’t get too overly concerned earlier,” he blinked, trusting that he had mentioned in the lapse of time that he seemingly forgot, “but this can’t be overlooked. I’m worried, Don. Something’s just not right here.”

“I was just daydreaming,” Don insisted. He watched as April became yet another silhouette in his sight. “I didn’t mean to worry you.”

“It’s not just that, though, Don,” she responded quickly. “You’ve been acting strange since the moment you walked in here and it’s almost like… Like you don’t know what’s going on anymore. You’re like in some sort of trance. Believe it or not, this is the first time you’ve been acting like yourself the entire night.”

“I haven’t been here long enough for you to know that,” Don defended, watching as the images blurred into a strikingly dark red.

“What?” April asked, baffled. Her tone quickly shifted, going for something smoother as she reached her hand for his shoulder. “Don… you’ve been here _all night._ It’s almost midnight now. Don’t you… No. You _don’t_ remember. Do you?”

He did not pull away form the approaching shadow’s hand but as soon as it touched him, he felt a swell of emotions. In his mind, it was as loud as the snap of a twig when the forest had long rested silent. Once it sounded, there was no resisting it.

Yanking his arm back, Don stepped back. He scowled at the faceless apparition and shook his head. 

_“Hands off!”_

The words slithered over his tongue and between his teeth before he knocked his shell into something, another silhouette and felt more hands grab onto him. They were all touching him, pulling him away from the light resting just beneath his vision. 

He felt his heart racing as he pulled away from them all.

“Don!” the distinctly female voice gasped before others joined in the senseless murmur.

_Don Donatello Don Don Don Don Don Don Don Donnie Don Don Don Don Don Don Don _Don Don Donnie Don Don Don Don Don Don Don Don Don Donnie Donatello Don Don Donatello _Don Don Don Don Don Donnie Don Don Don Don Don Don Don Don Don Don Donatello _Don Don Don Don Don Don Don Don Don Don Donnie Don Don Don Don Don Don _Don Don Don Donatello Don Don Don Don Donnie Don Don Don Don Don Don Don Donatello_____

He quickly grabbed the sides of his head as the murmurs shook the world around him. The darkness loomed in the corners of his eyes and no matter how he shook it would not disappear from his vision. He _longed_ for that dumb light to return.

“Stop it! Dammit! Just _stop!”_ he snapped before bolting for the door, brimming with light all around it. 

The shadows’ hands attempted to stop him yet again but he viciously pulled away, lunged forward and broke into the alley beside the building. The light radiated from the very crevices and lured him forward, pulling him toward the light of the sidewalk.

He knew that the further was from the shadows, the closer he pulled to the light, the less likely it was to flicker out.

This flicker was what he feared most.

_Don _Don Don Donnie Don Don Don Don Don Don Don Don Don Donnie Donatello Don Don Donatello _Don Don Don Don Don Donnie Don Don Don Don Don Don Don___

The noises followed him, but he ignored their calls as he let himself be absorbed in the ominous light. 

_Don Donnie Don Don Don Donnie_

His eyes danced about as he traveled, looking at the couple before him. They were dressed so neatly and the weather was so seemly. He thought that perhaps they could fit right into a movie at the rate they were going.

Had he seen them before?


	6. Snapping

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is weird because I know for a fact that I wrote this chapter originally almost eight years ago, and yet when I was rewriting it, reading over it for review and refreshing, I was genuinely surprised with how much I remember about actually writing it. I know that sounds weird, and it is weird, but it’s true. I actually remember sitting down in my high school media class and writing it in the drafts on ff.net and I remember the whole process. It’s really weird and for the life of me I have no idea why this particular chapter is something I remember so clearly. But I do! So I thought I’d share
> 
> Special thanks to @cartooncrazy4, @slightlycrookedletters, NutellaoMutt, and winkette on AO3 and tumblr for the support!

All in all, the whole thing had taken less than a minute. 

It happened so fast that it left them all standing in the doorway dumbstruck.

The only thing Mikey could get himself to feel was the sting of the slap to his shoulder, what had made him release his escaping brother.

The three remaining turtles and April could not break the shocked silence that followed watching Donatello truly snap.

Mikey felt sick to his stomach. They had all worked, to varying degrees, to act like whatever had been going on with Don was perfectly normal. That they just needed patience and positivity to get over it. To _overcome_ whatever Don was going through.

But they had been very, _very_ wrong. 

“What the hell just happened?” Raph cried out first.

The ice broken, everyone instantly began rolling into motion, almost trying to make up for the time lost to their astonishment. 

Leonardo tore out for the alley first, yelling desperately for their brother. “ _Donny_!”

“Oh my god!” April shouted, putting her hand over her mouth. “We were just talking! I-I thought he was acting odd, but it wasn’t… we were _just_ talking! What just happened!?”

Raph followed Leo into the alley but Mike remained still and silent. His hand reached up and gently rubbed his stinging shoulder. He stared at April, but he wasn’t _really_ looking at her. 

His mind was putting Don’s “ _escape”_ on replay.

Don had swatted the air hard on his way through, making contact with Michelangelo’s shoulder along the way. But it was the mannerisms that came with the motion, almost savage and animalistic. 

It reminded him of not so long ago when Don had temporarily been more _beast_ than brother.

The same kind of beast that had been more than willing to eat Mikey. Whose humanity flickered out of Don’s kind and intelligent eyes. 

The air was kicked from Mikey’s lungs. But he had to force himself into motion, to trail after his brothers. To tell them of his observation, if nothing else.

“Damn it!” Raph was cursing up ahead. “Where is he going!?”

Mike couldn’t see Leo so he kept hope that their eldest would be able to keep up with Don. 

He came to a halt at Raph’s side, not realizing April had followed, too, until she came up breathlessly behind them.

“I-I don’t know how it happened!” she cried out again.

Frustrated, Raphael leaped to the fire escape and presumably followed whatever direction he had seen Leo and Don go. 

But Mike stayed, seeing the wobble in April’s body. He pulled her close to him instead. She had the same horror and recognition written on her face that Mike was feeling himself. And it was dizzying to know it was not simply him.

“It… It was like watching someone’s body escape his mind. It was like Don just _left_ it,” April choked out before looking to Mike. “It was like he became wild, Mikey!”

For once, Michelangelo was at a loss for words. 

He knew exactly what she meant.

* * *

“Did you see it?”

It was a question that pounded Raphael’s mind. It chipped away the stoney surface he had grown over the past weeks and waited for a few heartbeats for a response. Anxious, biding. 

Not for an answer. He _knew_ Leo had seen it. But just for the confirmation. So that the burden of the realization didn’t rest squarely on him alone.

“He’s sick. There’s something wrong,” Leonardo responded quickly. He paused in their pursuit and looked from building corner to corner. There was no trace of Don on the roof. “He’s moving faster than usual. Dammit. Do you think he went underground?”

Raphael paused. He could hear the pounding in his ears now, blocking all other thought. The image of Don leaving them, barreling _through_ them, continued to replay itself. He moved so fast but that was not what was bother the red masked turtled.

“Didn’t you _see_ it, Leo?” he demanded.

He watched as Leonardo paused.

There was a lot that he could have seen. The ferociousness in their little brother’s eyes had been something that was unavoidable. But so too had the strength in his wild swing. It was just too hauntingly apparent that a beast had taken over sweet and sensible Donatello.

“I don’t think it’s, well, _that,”_ Leo said with a breath that was too short. 

Leo was determined to lead them forward.

Under his lead, they dropped from the top of the building, relying on instinct to find their brother’s escape route.

“How can you say that if you saw it?” Raph hissed. “It was like he was someone else.”

“I didn’t say they couldn’t be related, I just don’t think it’s _that,”_ the leader responded as they continued on. “This wasn’t Don becoming something else it was just like… Don checked out. It wasn’t exactly like what had happened.”

"So what’re you saying, Leo?” Raph snapped. “Something _else_ coincidentally is going on up in Donny’s head?”

“You’re saying it’s impossible?” Leo asked, glancing over his shoulder at his brother. His eyes narrowed slightly and he looked forward again. “He shouldn’t have gotten this far away. He would have _had_ to gone to the sewers.”

“Nothing else _could_ be wrong with Donny’s head, Leo,” Raph stated defensively as they came to a halt. “It’s Donny, he’s the brains of the family. We can’t do much of nothing without him. He just _can’t_ have something wrong with his head that isn’t from one of our nutso adventures.”

“We’ll figure out what it is when we find him,” Leo stated lowly, glancing about. He was looking around for clues still. “Just _one_ clue, Donny. Come _on.”_

“Leo, if he’s going to go all monster on us again,” Raph continued, “there’s nothing we can do for him. Not with nothing bur our weapons anyway. If he’s Monster Don we’d need our stuff in the Lair and LeatherHead.”

“And if he’s _not_ that then we need to focus on finding our brother and helping him,” Leonardo hissed before placing his hand over his chin. “Where did Don go the last time he blanked on us like this? Wasn’t it near the Old Lair?”

“Yeah, it was,” Raphael stated before looking around. “Think he went back?”

“Only one way to find out,” Leonardo responded lowly before turning toward the East .He glared at the blank skyline, aggravated. “Come on, we’ll head him off. “Well try to figure out just what the shell is going on after we catch up to him.”

Nodding, Raphael followed again. It was not a perfect plan but it was one worth following. For now.

* * *

He felt the wetness of his skin. The darkness had taken over the skies once more and, returned to his right mind, he realized that the explanation rested in storm clouds. The water pelted his skin which had suddenly become chilled to numb.

Very tired, his eyes begged to be closed but he knew better than to sleep. He did not know where he was but he figured it was not safe. At least not yet.

Don swallowed and looked around. There were faint memories of him getting to where he was but they were not capable of being focused. He had no idea how they started or why this had all happened.

At the same time, he was too tired to care. 

Instead, he closed his eyes and waited for his skin to melt off, pouring into the storm’s runoff. 

After standing in the rain for a while, he could hear his brothers come to him. 

Strangely, though, he felt no emotion toward the occurrence one way or the other. If they left him to melt or they took him home, Don would not care in the fuzziness of his mind.

It was like half of his body was shut down.

“Don, are you okay?” Leo questioned worriedly, approaching with what Don would have normally seen as an unusual amount of caution. His eyes searched up and down Don’s body, as if there was some sort of disfiguration to be found.

Don nodded tiredly. He supposed he was fine.

“What are you doing, Don?” Raph asked. “You scared us to death.”

Finding the strength to smile, Don looked to them. “Enjoying the rain.”

They stared at him, perplexed. A part of Don’s brain, struggling with the flicker of life it had left, was worried why they were looking that way. That single nerve knew that it had to have a reason behind it but wasn’t strong enough to force Don to care.

"What rain?” Leo questioned.

“You’re in the sewers, Don,” Raph continued. 

He didn’t care anymore. Don turned more toward them, swaying slightly off balance. “Are you going to take me home?”

They were quiet before nodding. He was glad they were taking him home. The rain had stopped at the mention of its non-existence. 


	7. Paths Burned Before

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not much to say this time around haha There seems to be a lack of interest in this fic but I know Effar’s waited patiently for almost ten years now for this to get done and by golly I will do it!
> 
> Special thanks to @theeffar for the support!

As they walked, Michelangelo focused on his feet. 

He noticed for the first time that, as they walked, their feet didn’t really make much of an impression on the tunnel’s ground. Consider the grime of the sewers, Mike assumed that their steps would have left at least something behind.

The more he thought about it, the more it made sense. They had trained so much throughout their lives to step so lightly that they wouldn’t make a sound. It was instinct by that point.

But looking up, he watched Donatello’s movements were more direct, controlled as they carrie themselves closer to home. He could see his brother become more alert, wrinkles growing beneath his eyes at some sort of distant conscious realization. 

Like he was waking up while walking.

But all Mike could think – all he could _see_ – was that beastly flicker in Don’s eyes as he rushed past them earlier. Like a truly terrifying blast from the past.

It also reminded Mike that while Raph and Leo had gone out to find and help Don, Mikey had remained at the store. That Mikey was the one brother that showed he may not be all there for his brother.

Ahead of Don, Leo and Raph were leading the way home. Raphael drudged forward, his head lowered as though he was charging toward the Lair and never looking back. On the other hand, Leonardo turned to gaze over his shoulder every few moments. Checking on them.

True to form, though, not a single one of them made an audible noise. 

The quiet was enough tension on its own. 

At least, it had been until Don uttered, “There’s something wrong with me.”

Which was one statement that immediately made Mike’s skin crawl for its general creep factor. 

Everyone stopped in their tracks and looked at Don. But he didn’t seem deterred, if anything he looked downright determined as he glared back at them. 

It was the most _Don_ that Don had looked in a while.

“What is it?” he demanded. “What’s wrong with me? Does anyone know yet?”

Leo rubbed at the back of his neck. “It’s… We don’t know. We haven’t even fully figured out if it _is_ something wrong or just some sort of other explanation.”

“I think we _all_ know there’s something wrong,” Don said firmly, despite the volume of his voice notably dropping. “I’m not _that_ crazy. I know there’s something wrong, Leo.”

Raph wiped a hand over his face and shook his head before stepping toward the center. “Can we _please_ just make it the rest of the way home?” he asked, though it wasn’t really a question. 

“That sounds like a good idea,” Mike was quick to second.

The sooner the better the _less awkward._

Their trek continued in silence, but Mike was more observant of the other’s steps than his own that time around. 

Specifically Don’s. Where, unlike the rest of them, Donny was leaving a drag line for his knuckled over toes every couple of steps. Except there looked like there was nothing wrong with his feet. At least not that Mike could see from the outside, nor had there been an opportunity he was aware of for Don to have hurt himself.

It was like Don didn’t even know he was slightly dragging his toes. 

Not wanting to thin anymore on it until at _least_ they got home, Mike just made a quiet note of it to tell the others later.

* * *

There was the tinge of worry in his chest. The same as it always was when his sons were not within his sights. But at least over the years he had become far better at preoccupying himself, ignoring the instinct to find them and return them to his side, but the worry never truly left. As it never should.

He was their father and he would scorn the day that he was not anxious for their safety.

But the air of the night was different. More anxious and unsure. 

The worry had been more persistent since Donatello’s incidents, but even that did not fully explain the stale air of his sons’ approach. It was enough to keep his face at a firm frown as the door to the sewers opened and his sons shuffled in – morose and unsure themselves.

“Hello, my sons,” he said gently. “I am so very glad you are home safe and sound.”

They looked at him, silent and uncertain still.

It was as if they were filled with dread over the night as well. 

Somewhat surprisingly, Donatello broke the mold first, stepping away from his brothers. There was a tiredness – an _age_ to Donatello’s eyes that did not belong there. A face full of what seemed to be enough regret for a lifetime. 

“I’m sorry,” he told them. He paused, looking away from their blank expressions. But his voice was surprisingly firm and _normal_ from what the last few weeks had brought them. “I don’t know what happened.”

When none of them replied or met Splinter’s questioning gaze, it left the old father to grab Donatello’s shoulder and begin leading him toward the stairs. 

“Whatever has come this night, it is now _over_ , my son,” Splinter assured him. “And you are tired, Donatello. Please go to bed. Worry and apologies are for tomorrow.”

Reluctantly, the teenager followed his father’s lead. He was slow, but not sickly. 

Once Donatello was on his way without Splinter’s guiding hand, the old rat turned to the rest of his family. He looked at them expectantly.

Raphael was the first to step forward. “Master, I’m really tired, too. I’m just going to crash. Leo and Mikey can update you,” he announced, not sounding the least bit like he was awaiting for approval for the plan.

Splinter watched after him as Raph took to the stairs. His eyes fell on the last two.

“Were the matters of the night truly so difficult?” Splinter asked Leonardo and Michelangelo. “It has been a long time since I have felt such an atmosphere of dread around my family.”

“It was not a good night, Master, no,” Leonardo confirmed with a bow of his head.

“Don ran away from April and us and, well, acted _really_ weird,” Mike dared to explain. Unusual for the youngest turtle, he was wearing a vivid scowl at the memory. “He wasn’t acting like himself at all, he was acting like… like when that outbreak was happening.”

The very mention of that dark time in his family’s past caused Master Splinter to turn immediately toward his sun. There was a thin glare between them. “That is a most terrible thing to say, Michelangelo.”

“But it’s the truth, Sensei,” Mike insisted. He then remembered himself and lowered his head. “It was the first thing I thought when I saw his eyes. It was bad. Like, _really_ bad.”

“He’s still Don, though,” Leonardo interrupted. “Something’s up, but there’s no doubt that Don’s still functioning as himself. He has strange _episodes,_ I guess you could call them, but then he’s back to Don. We _can’t_ jump to conclusions like this. We just _can’t.”_

Putting a hand to his chin carefully, Splinter breathed a sigh. “Leonardo, Michelangelo is entitled to his viewpoint, just as we are ours,” Splinter sighed. “But please. This is your _brother_ we are speaking of, Michelangelo.”

“How do we know what this thing is, though?” Mike questioned genuinely.

“We wait,” the master responded simply. “From now on, the three of you may continue your rooftop exercises but you shall leave Donatello here with me. If he is unsettled in mind or spirit, he should remain where he is safe and under care.”

“Yes, Master,” Leonardo answered with a dissatisfied frown set on his beak. He folded his arms and looked away. There seemed to be an almost _discomfort_ at the declaration.

Strangely enough, Michelangelo did not answer at all but rather nodded with a frighted look upon his face. There was some sense of relief, however, that Splinter could detect.

“Very good,” Splinter stated before heading toward Donatello’s room. “Get some rest, my sons. I will talk to you all in more detail about this night later. For now I shall watch over Donatello.”

And with that he left them, entered the room for his sickened son, and was somewhat surprised to see an already sleeping form. 

He hoped the others could find rest as quickly and settled himself on the floor, meditating on the situation and doing as much as he could to avoid thoughts of snapping jaws and a monster within. 


	8. Keeping His Grip

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost caught up to where the original was left off! Exciting and terrifying.
> 
> Special thanks to @slightlycrookedletters, Lapinporokoira, DennyHamato, and birdsongblue for the feedback and support on AO3 and tumblr!

It had been a long day. 

When his eyes fluttered open again to his great disdain, he was not really surprised. He was even _less_ surprised as he turned to his side and discovered that it was merely five in the morning – less than thirty minutes since the last time he had rolled over and tried to sleep.

Turning onto his shell, Leonardo folded his hands over his chest and stared at the ceiling above him. 

He wished desperately that he had been more convincing to Don. Of course everyone knew that Leo worried enough for all four of them, none of them should have to fill in for him on that department. And no one, save maybe Don himself, could have worried more about the position they were in. 

“I don’t know what’s wrong,” he reminded himself. But even Leo didn’t know if his own tone denoted cautious optimism or scornful disappointment. 

Sometimes he and his brothers would have bits and pieces of a larger picture – that described more than enough of their adventures. Some questions didn’t have answers. 

But Don’t precarious situation was different. It was the first time that _not knowing_ truly _disturbed_ Leo. 

He didn’t want to lose a brother and confidant. Leo might not have wanted to let his brothers take on any of his worries, but Don was the one person he could go to for answers. Answers, sometimes, to questions Leo hadn’t even thought to ask. 

So while Leo needed sleep, needed to stop thinking, it didn’t look like his mind had any intention of letting him.

“I can’t take this,” he muttered to himself before finally pushing himself up to sit. 

He glanced over his shoulder to the alarm clock – _five fifteen_ – and grabbed the blue mask that was tossed across it.

Leaving the room felt like turning off a pressure cooker. His first true breath of fresh air came to his lungs once he was out in the halls, making the greater area of the lair far more uplifting for him than it had been since the strangeness with Don first reared its ugly head.

In the quiet, he strangely enough didn’t feel alone. He felt like he could hear the things that only silence could appreciate, like the snores of his brothers or the breeze pelting the paper coverings of his father’s door.

What silence meant to Leonardo was that nothing was disrupting their momentary peace. 

Like all peace in their lives, though, Leo found it only lasted a few steps.

He leaned heavily on the doorframe to Don’s lab and saw, to his disappointment and exhaustion, that Don had moved all the furniture to the center of the room. And a single light was on where Don was sitting in the office chair.

“It’s a little early for redecorating, Don,” Leo spoke up at last. 

Don’s eyes fluttered a few times, looking up from the desk as Leo cross into the room and pulled up a chair beside him. There was an uneasiness to Don’s shoulders, like he was expecting to be scolded or corrected. 

Leo didn’t have the desire nor the energy. He simply sat beside his brother and straddled his chair backwards, leaning his arms and chin agains the back. 

“Huh?” Don responded finally. He rubbed at his face, waking up a bit more, before shrugging off his very apparent concerns. “I guess it is. I don’t now. What time is it?”

“A quarter after five,” Leo said casually, looking over the stacks of furniture. “In the morning.”

“Ah,” Don said, looking at Leo, waiting for some other shoe to drop. “Well if it’s early, why’d you wake me up?”

“What?” Leonardo blurted out before he could think better. But he quickly changed his tune, shaking his head. “Oh. Well, I think you’re looking for something. Didn’t tell me what, though I could make a decent guess at this point.”

There was another silent stare down between them and Leo couldn’t help but think of how frightful Don’s eyes were in that time. They were observant yet lacked the warm understanding he was so used to seeing from his brother. 

But the gaze eventually broke as Don nodded to Leo’s words.

“Right,” Don said as he looked to the laboratory and crossed his arms. “I was looking for my key. I know it’s here somewhere, I just…”

“We’ll find the keys someday, Don. When we’re least expecting it,” Leo said with a shift of his hand to his brother’s shoulder. It earned him a confused glance. “If you keep stressing over it, though, we’ll never find them. I bet you’d remember if you tried to think about something else for a while.”

Shaking his head, Don attempted to get up and walk away from the conversation. 

Somewhat despite himself, Leo followed. 

“I want to find my key first,” Don replied at last, bringing a finger up to his mouth and chewing on the knuckle.

“Why?” Leo asked.

Pausing for a moment, Don looked to his feet, dragging the knuckle of his finger across his teeth. He closed his eyes and shook his head again. “If I could find my key, I’ll know I’m okay. That the problem’s not me. _Stress_ wouldn’t make me lose the key. If I find the key I’ll know whatever’s wrong with me isn’t permanent.” He gritted his teeth and looked to Leo. “Wn’t it?”

“I think, Don,” Leo said slowly, thinking carefully over each word, “that if you want to get better then you need to stop obsessing over what’s forgotten. So you fort something? Everyone has. Sometimes I still forget April and Casey’s birthdays, and it’s on the calendar in the kitchen. It’s not a big deal. But you’re working your every nerve and impulse over it for some reason.”

Almost immediately, Don’s eyes glazed over and he began to walk off mid-sentence. It was enough of a rejection to make Leo want to kick himself. 

He was so bad at this.

“When it’s not five in the morning, _I_ will help you find your keys, okay?” Leo course corrected. He waited for a second but continued after getting no response from Don. “Right now, though, you should sleep or work on another project. Preferably one that doesn’t fly through the Lair at the speed of light.”

At the mention of projects, Don pulled himself back toward his chair. He grunted as though he had been suffering from aches and pains for years as he slid into it.

“I don’t remember what to do in any of those projects,” he admitted hollowly. “I keep looking at the blueprints and they don’t even make sense. I tried to follow them one time. I really did. But all that I ended up doing was making a circle of circuit breakers. I couldn’t even follow _directions.”_

“So you’re in a funk,” Leo shrugged. “You’ve not been feeling in the right mood to do this stuff anyway. Maybe you shouldn’t force it.”

Sourly, Don looked to his brother. “I don’t think that’s the problem,” he said slowly. “I don’t know what to make of all this. I’ve never been like this before.

Leo looked at his brother painfully. “Are you scared?”

“No, I’m not,” Don said quietly with a shake of his head. “I don’t think so, anyway. I just want to know what’s wrong. And, Leo, there’s something _wrong._ But maybe _knowing_ will be half the battle…”

There was a tense pause before Leo conceded. “It can be. But we can make arrangements to try to find out what’s wrong. I’m sure LeatherHead could help. The two of you have made enough medical gear–”

“No,” Don stopped him short, looking Leo sharply in the eyes. “Just let me find this key. If I find this key, whatever _is_ wrong isn’t permanent. It can go away. And I can make sense of everything I’ve been _forgetting_ and _seeing_ and _feeling._ I just need to do it myself.”

Leo’s glare hardened. “Seeing? You’ve been _seeing_ things, Don?” Like what? What are you seeing?”

The look on Don’s face told Leo immediately that he hadn’t meant to reveal that level of detail. 

He got up and began gathering objects from his desk indiscriminately. “It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it. If they were that big of a deal I’d have told you about them already, Leo. I’m more concerned about forgetting useful information at the moment. Just… just let me look for this key–”

“Don, i was the first one who started to get worried about you,” Leo reminded his brother sternly. His voice was enough to get Don to at least look up at him. “I was worried before any of this happened. I thought you were _off_. Distracted maybe. And as it got worse, I was worried that me and everyone else drawing attention to it, stressing you more – we were somehow causing this or making it worse than it was. Because I _trust your judgment_ , more than almost anyone outside of our father’s. And I wanted to follow your lead first, only deterring when I was worried about your safety.” 

Don looked at him but said nothing, slowly lowering his things back to his desk. 

“I can’t ignore it anymore _for that reason_ , I can’t try to excuse the obvious,” Leo continued. “Because I love you. And I _will_ figure out what’s wrong with you. Because something is wrong.”

Weakly, Don looked almost wounded. “Don’t say that, Leo. Please. There _is_ something wrong, but it’s temporary. It has to be.”

“Then we’re going to make for _sure_ it is,” Leo said firmly. “And if that means getting help from our friends, then that’s exactly what we’re going to do.”

Unhappy with that answer, Don left his chair and head out the lab and toward the stairs. _Finally_ going to his room.

Leo took a deep breath and rubbed his face. 

It was going to be a difficult journey, but if he had to be the one steering, then that’s exactly what he was going to do. 


	9. Silence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost caught up to where the original was left off! Exciting and terrifying.
> 
> Special thanks to @theeffar and @slightlycrookedletters for the feedback and support on AO3 and tumblr!

“It always starts the same, doesn’t it?” Donatello sighed as his visitor frowned and nodded, sipping tea. “I’m so sorry I cant remember your name right now. But, you see, I lost this key. And everything’s just been falling apart since I lost the key. It’s kind of tragic, really. Something that’s so small and useless is gone and, suddenly, it means more to you than anything else in the world.”

The guest looked to him quietly.

“I guess that’s what happens when you take stuff for granted,” Donatello sighed as he tapped his chin and allowed his eyes to wander. Truly, he was not feeling well.

He didn’t even know what room it was.

“I’m so scatter-brained lately, forgive me. Strange how it works. I become so obsessed with finding that key and now everything else is jumping around in my head so fast it’s making me throb all over. I feel like something’s trying to get _out of_ my brain. Reminds me of a someone I new once. This robot.” Donatello made a soured face. “I… I don’t remember his name either.”

Looking over to the guest, Donatello noticed that the long snout of his new friend wrinkled with some disgust, he was curling its claws around a cup. It looked like a dinosaur or something preposterous like that.

Folding his arms, Don sighed and shook his head. He could _not_ remember the creature’s name for the life of him. And the creature was not much of a talker so odds were it was not about to give him any clues.

“I forget, what were we talking about? Ah. Oh, yes. _That_ old thing,” Don sighed as he poured the creature more tea from the pot. “It always starts the same. I’ve already told you that.”

Frowning, Don stared deeply into his friend, but not _at_ him. Through him. At the gray atmosphere which was suddenly whirling behind him, consuming the brick wall and dissolving it into the alley. The clicking of heels echoed through the alley and a gentle hum of a woman’s laughter, so sweet and tender, broke through, trumping all other noise. 

A couple walked before them and Don felt his face fall somewhat in sadness. A couple walked by the alley and the weather was just fancy. They looked so pretty they could have strolled right off a movie set. He was in a nice jacket, she in fur. 

They were just _so_ fancy and _so_ happy. 

And then they were gone. In a flash their night was over and Don knew them both to be long dead. he sighed and looked at his tea, waiting for the vision to leave him be.

It was never gone for long, though. He knew that.

The moment it was gone, however, he missed it. He missed being the observer, the audience. He was tired of being the center of attention in his world. And as he looked dup and saw that hideous monster’s face again, he knew it was _its_ fault.

Don squeezed his own cup of tea until his hands quaked.

“I’m sick of playing the Mime Game,” he snarled at last, leering at the monster who only sadly looked back. “Tell me who you are! Tell me who you are before it drives me _crazy!”_

A strange look came over the face of the long nosed creature and it sighed. Shaking its head, it gave not a word to Donatello. It could answer no questions and Don was more than aware of this fact. 

More than upset by then, Donatello stood up in rage and threw his cup at the fiend, shattering the illusion that there was anything there at all.

“I’m so sick of this!” he growled, grabbing his head tenderly through the throbbing.

* * *

At dinner, they were all quiet.

Everyone sat at their normal seats, everyone picked at their food as normal, but it was still a moment that was _far_ from normal. _Because_ it was so quiet. 

Any word between them risked saying the wrong thing, asking the wrong question. Like asking _why_ Don had been yelling in his room earlier. Or any of a million other questions about his behavior, about – 

Well, about his _symptoms._ It was undeniable anymore. 

Leo couldn’t eat, instead putting down his utensils and deciding what he and Don were going to do about it tomorrow. 

* * *

Raphael had a philosophy that ran right down to his bones, something he figured defined him more than almost anything else, even more than his anger and frustration. It all came down to a simple question.

What was a brother supposed to do for his family?

It was simple. It was the one thing he could always answer. What was he supposed to do for his family? _Anything._

There was no _thought_ behind his actions when they were for family, no concerns about his impulse. He would bury himself in battle without a moment’s hesitation for the sake of his brothers, his father, their friends. He wouldn’t question mortality or danger if it meant doing something for them, _any_ of them. 

So Raph didn’t think about it. He rarely gave himself _time_ to think about it.

But when Don succumbed to the Outbreak Virus, Raph couldn’t steamroll over the problem. He had to let the others, had to let LeatherHead and their friends, formulate plans and cures. 

He hated it.

By the time the conclusion was drawn from their formulas and experiments, Raphael had already developed a sharp sai that could slice through Agent Bishop a thousand different ways. It worked. They rescued Don. And while Raph did not get to skewer his favorite operative, he did get to cut through some nasty Foot soldiers. That almost made it worth it.

Almost.

But the problem was back. 

Raph could see it so clearly in his brother’s half-dead eyes. Why couldn’t anyone else see it?

It was nearly six months later but the monster hidden within Donatello’s mutated DNA had resurfaced. It was laying in wait, to take away their last hopes for a happy lifetime growing older and uglier together. 

They lost.

He looked around the table as everyone silently ate their food, observing one another for signs of a pulse or breath from time to time. It was like they were children and they huddled in the corner of their bed, waiting for the monster to disappear if they didn’t say anything.

Raphael couldn’t do that. Not anymore.

He had ignored the elephant in the room long enough.

Fist closed, he sat up and glared at them all. They looked back, save for Don who was mesmerized by his teacup.

“I’m going to my room,” he announced before abruptly doing so. He called back to them, “Do yourself a favor: if you need me, don’t bother.”

He shut the door and glared at his mirror. He didn’t even think of breaking anything. There had been enough things breaking lately.

Instead, he turned off the lights and stood in the utter darkness of his room, the only trembling light being released from the cracks between the frame and the door. Raph could deal with those, though. He stuffed his blanket into them.

When he could see nothing, he sat down on the floor, not even daring to try to make it to his hammock for a sit.

It was completely silent, almost as silent as it had been at dinner.

He tried to cut himself off from all distraction and, in the first earnest attempt he had made in what felt like ages, he tried to meditate for peace rather than find it in the action and numbness derived from a fight. 

He tried to _think_ and nothing would _come._

What was he supposed to do for his brother? He didn’t know.

He just tried.

* * *

Leo was ready for an answer.

In the mind of a strategist, the world came to order when a goal could be seen as achievable. If a solution to a problem was known, Leonardo felt he could all but forgive that there had been a problem to begin with. 

He didn’t believe their situation was repetitious. He knew, logically, he couldn’t write out the possibility of it, but _something_ about it – even if it would be related to the horror that had been Don contracting the Outbreak – was wrong. 

When Don had his _episodes_ , Leo did not see a monster. 

He simply had to prove it to the others. 

Looking to his family, seeing that Don never fully looked him back, Leo wondered if perhaps there was something behind the flickering of Don’s eyes. That even as he failed to make eye contact, that he wasn’t experiencing one of his _episodes._ Maybe on a smaller, less noticeable scale. 

Maybe Don didn’t even know himself. 

With Raph gone from the table, Leo took a breath and steepled his fingers before his face. He had to concentrate on how to say what needed to be said. 

The silence the motion drew from both Master Splinter and Michelangelo spoke volumes on its own.

“Don,” Leo called out, causing his brother to blink and look up. His focus was still off, though, and Leo took careful note of it. “Tomorrow you and are going to LeatherHead’s and looking for your keys.”

At last, Don’s kind eyes focused on Leonardo clearly, really _saw_ him. “You… Wait. Are you saying you know where they were?” he scowled. “Shouldn’t they be here?”

“No,” Leo said, continuing to ignore the quiet impatience and curiosity that overtook Master Splinter and Michelangelo throughout their conversation. “No, Don, I don’t know exactly where they are, but I have a hunch that we’ll find everything we need tomorrow. If you trust me.”

As Don withdrew some in thought, putting a hand to his chin and honestly looking the most _Don_ he had in days, Master Splinter turned and squared to Leonardo directly. There was a certain intensity to the whip of his tail behind him. 

“Leonardo, I do not know if Donatello leaving our home again so soon after…” he paused, closing his eyes and sighing before continuing, “after what has occurred is the most wise course of action.”

“Besides we’ve talked to LH–” Mikey began only for Don to stand up, drawing everyone’s attention.

“I trust you, Leo,” Don said. 

They quietly looked at Don, and Leo never felt more of a need in his life to capture a moment, to try and keep his brother exactly as he was at that very instant. To keep the confusion and possible harm away again at whatever cost.

But instead he allowed a coolness to wash over him, he smiled softly back to his brother. “Thanks, Don. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Yeah,” Don said, walking toward the stairs. “You, too.”

Leo clenched his fists and took a breath. He needed to call LeatherHead ahead of time and get things ready, but for a moment he was content to soak in the good news.

His brother trusted him. That was all the inspiration in the world Leo needed to make certain he didn’t let that trust down.


	10. Good Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost caught up to where the original was left off, though I’m being reminded of just why I had given up on trying to write this sucker from the beginning. About this time when the story was originally published in 2009, not long after this chapter was posted actually, my uncle who I was very close to was diagnosed with a malignant brain tumor. For the years that followed, this story – which had already been digging into and helping me come to terms with a familial situation from before – got a little too real for me. And now, six years later, and a year after my uncle passed away from that same tumor, it’s very real again. But I hope it’s real in a way that I can deal with through this story. 
> 
> Special thanks to @slightlycrookedletters for the feedback and support on AO3 and tumblr!

One mistake, as Michelangelo saw it, was that he had never felt a reason to define what a _good day_ meant before the situation with Don started up. Had never had to think of what _started_ a good day before. 

It wasn’t really a term which anyone could agree on, let alone predict. 

But unlike everyone else, Mike still looked for them with the excitable and perhaps naive perspective that they were still there, that they _could_ be found even while things around them – while things around _Don_ – seemed to fall apart around them. 

A good day, if Mike could have placed such a thing in comprehensible terms, was a day where everyone in his family was safe. It was a day where everyone was present and together, maybe doing their own things, but known to be healthy and happy. 

It was a day where Mike could pull out his video games or comic books and spend hours in his own little world without the tickle in the back of his mind working over his concern for the others. 

The lair had been a rather dark place lately, but Mike could sense that it was the dawn of a new day from the moment he set foot outside his room. 

After all, Leo had said the night before that he and Don were going to visit LeatherHead. He had said that he _had a plan._ And if there was one turtle in the world that Mike could trust to come up with a good plan, to make everything safe and secure for them, it was Leonardo.

Raph could seethe the phrase “turtle luck” as pessimistically as he wanted that day, but Mike wasn’t about to listen to him. Not about to let anyone bring down his bad mood. 

So Mikey did not blink twice as he sat down beside his brother for breakfast.

Donatello stared absently at him for a few moments as Mike eagerly grabbed the cereal box on Don’s side of the table and took it for his own. Mike smiled at his brother pleasantly and poured his cereal into the bowl waiting for him.

“Good morning, Bro!” Mike beamed as he put down the box and then grabbed the carton of milk.

Usually Don would sip coffee and give him a gentle nod before ignoring Mike’s barbaric take on table manners. But on _this_ particular good day, Don gave a full, albeit sleepy, smile.

“Morning to you, too,” he offered in return.

“Come on, Donnie,” Mike responded with a smirk. “It’s more than just _morning._ Today’s a good day! A _great_ morning!”

For a moment, Don’s expression fell into something more quizzical and alert. Then a certain nervousness tainted the expression and he bit his lip. “Am I… Forgetting why it should be?” he asked lowly.

“It’s going to be a good day because I _feel_ like it’s a good one already,” Mikey assured him quickly before taking a pause to chomp onto his spoonful of cereal. He then slipped the spoon through his lips with an audible _pop_ before waving it at his brother. “And I bet if you tried _real hard,_ Don, you’ll feel the same way, too!”

At the statement, Don blinked. He then leaned back in deep though and pondered it. His smile returned. “Yeah, I guess it can be a good day. No reason not to be yet, right?”

“Exactly!” Mike yelled out exuberantly as Leonardo passed through the door.

“Okay, I think we’re ready,” Leo informed Don. “I just want to grab a quick bite.” He then paused and stared at the bowl Mike was using. “I’m not even sure why I’m surprised.”

“First come, first serve, Leo,” Mike said with a laugh before holding up the bowl and pretending to not notice the splashes of milk falling to the table. “Want some?”

Leo returned Mike’s look dully before rolling his eyes. “No, it’s fine. Just lost my appetite.” He then looked over to Don more determinedly. “Come on, Don, let’s get started. LeatherHead said he’s got everything at his place ready for us.”

Mike watched as Don’s eyes lit like fire crackers when he was reminded of the task for the day. 

“Right, let’s get out there,” Don said. “I’m ready to find this thing.”

“We all are,” Leo responded somberly before nodding again to Mike. He led Don out without another word. 

Mike huffed and sloshed another spoonful of cereal into his mouth as he thought about the situation carefully. “Hope the _thing_ Don’s looking for is _answers_ and not the stupid keys still.” 

Before the thought could go an iota further, though, Mike shook his head and rose to his feet. “Positives, Mikey,” he chided himself. “It’s a _good day.”_

* * *

But, of course, sometimes good days were also _boring_ days apparently.

Mikey could count all the major events that happened before two-thirty that afternoon on just one of his three fingered hands. They also happened to not involve him directly.

He laid on the couch in silent discontent when he heard a loud growl and a slew of curses.

In the dullness of laying flat on his shell on the couch, Mike had almost forgotten that the lair could be amiss of noise outside of the occasional movement from Splinter’s room. But, somewhat fortunately, Mike had been so wrapped up in boredom that his body was too stiff to jump into the air like his instincts called for. 

“DAMN CAT!” Raph’s voice boomed before Klunk came flying out of Don’s bedroom and took off down the stairs and out of sight. 

To suppress his explosive laughter, Michelangelo had to bite his lip and just watch Raph stomp around from downstairs. 

“Get a leash on your cat, will ya?” Raph growled at Mikey. “He just about broke the computer screen chasing a stupid spider. A _spider!_ Why can’t he go after something worthwhile? Like a cockroach?”

“What’s it matter? You’re scared of both,” Mike shrugged, hoping his brother wouldn’t notice the amused glint of his eyes.

“What’d you just say to me?” Raph snapped.

“Oh, you heard me, Raphie!” Mike laughed, leaping up to his feet, rejuvenated and freshly free of bored stiffness. “What’re you gonna do about it?”

He might have been literally asking for it, but Mike still did not contain the shrill scream as his brother dove for his waist. It gave him only seconds to grab the pillows from the couch and begin whomping his brother’s head with them as they hit the floor shell first. 

“Don’t you remember what sensei always taught us?” Mike warned as they rolled on the floor. “Never mess with a master of Pill-Fu!” 

"The only thing _you’re_ a master of is being a pain in my shell!” Raph snapped, continuing to wrestle and topple Mike, but his voice lacked any trace of malice, and there was a subtle crack to his smile that Mikey was privy to. 

There was a certain joy in the struggle, in the _normalcy_ of their arguing and both of them could feel it.

They only stopped when the paper doors to Splinter’s room slid open with a click and their father stood expectantly. 

“I have heard enough,” he said, pointing toward the door. “If you wish to be loud, I will ask you to take it _outside_ so that I may meditate further.”

“Fine by me!” Raph chirped before leaping to his feet. “I need an excuse to bust outta here anyway.” And though they had been locked arm and arm just seconds before, Raphael through a glance Mikey’s way. “You coming?”

“Bro, you _know_ it!” Mike returned as he scrambled to his feet as well.

Master Splinter shook his head and closed the door behind him, but Michelangelo and Raphael gave him little mind. For the first time in _so_ long they weren’t weighed down with concern and fretting uselessness. 

Things were normal. 

* * *

To both Mikey’s great relief and his even greater surprise, the fight and clobbering did not continue outside the lair.

Instead, the two brothers silently walked with one another through the familiar sets of tunnels. A maze to anyone outside of their family, but for them a consistent pattern block by block, old memory by memory.

“Remember when I wrecked Don’s bike here?” Mike asked with a lighthearted laugh. “he never let me ride it again. Of course, I guess we should’ve figured out I was better on _four_ wheels than _two.”_

“Nah, you suck at four, too,” Raph smirked before giving Mike’s shoulder a shove. “But at least you’re not as likely to fall over.” As they got closer to the exact spot, though, the scratches and scrape of old metal and chipped paint from the bike became more self evident and Raphael whistled, low and impressed. “Geeze, Mikey. How’d you even manage that one?”

Shrugging, Mike couldn’t help but laugh. “I don’t know, dude. But it was _fun._ Y’know, until the whole near-death thing.” 

At the very mention of death, Raphael’s relaxed expression hardened, cooled, and he glared off.

Mike sighed and shook his head. “You’re gonna have to get over that, Raph.”

Turning, Raph glared back at Mike. “Get over _what?”_ he asked sharply. 

“The whole scowl thing when you’re thinking about Don,” Mike answered, growing as serious of an expression as he could manage. “I know it goes with your whole _Me Against the World_ vibe, but it’s really starting to grate on everyone’s nerves. Well, _more_ than usual. And it all seems like you’re irritated with Donnie.”

“I _am_ irritated with him,” Raph responded before looking off. “Sorta. It’s just… It’s hard to explain. And I think I have permission to be just the tiniest bit pissed, Mike. He’s just… not himself anymore. And I just haven’t been able to make anything of it yet.”

"Oh, come _on,”_ Mike groaned with a roll of his eyes. “Just have the tiniest bit of compassion and it’ll take you far with… well, _whatever’s_ going on in Don’s head right now.”

“Yeah, _I’m_ not the one who tried to treat this first like all Don needed was for us to act like everything was normal,” Raph pointed out sharply. “Only now Leo’s acting _Mister Savior_ on us and taking up the lead. Getting to the bottom of all this and making the rest of us – those of us who actually _acted_ like something was up the whole time – to sit on our damn thumbs.”

“Yeah…” Mike sighed, rubbing at his neck as they came to another corner. “Yeah, I know. But at _least_ Leo’s being proactive!”

“Proactive my foot,” Raph snorted before coming to a stop. He glanced around the tunnel before narrowing his gaze on Mikey. “Why’re we here?”

“Huh?” Mike asked intelligently back before looking around. He blinked a few times before the familiar tunnel clicked – the shortcut to their childhood home laid before them. “Oh, _weird._ I totally forgot… No, that’s not true. I didn’t forget. I guess it’s just… I don’t know, hardwired into our brains to go this way,” he said, tapping on his skull. “No matter how many years pass.”

Raphael looked down the tunnel, unmoving. “I guess,” he said lowly.

Humming slightly, Mike crossed his arms. “Kinda makes you think… I don’t know. Maybe that’s how it happened to Don? Just the hardwiring junk. Walking on autopilot. We’ll always try to get home.”

“That’s the thing,” Raph replied with a shake of his head. “It means Don’s not thinking. And I just…” He sighed and pinched the bridge between his eyes. “A Don not thinking just is someone who isn’t Don to me.”

They stood silently for a few moments more before Raph turned and led the way back home. 

Raphael didn’t say much of anything, and with the whole idea of their feet taking them subconsciously where they wanted to go, Mike was forced to bite back on his tongue to keep from asking just why his brother was in Don’s room earlier. 

* * *

Unlike the trip away from the lair, the trip back home was silent and cold. Not even Mikey attempted to break the silence until they were through the door. 

Before either of them could see the others or before they could overhear a conversation, the mood already told them that they had left Mikey’s _good day_ checked in at the door. 

They looked to each other before carrying forward toward the living room where Splinter and Leonardo sat. 

Don was absent from the equation, though some noise of movement could be heard upstairs. 

“What is it? What’d LH say?” Mike questioned worriedly.

Raphael’s jaw was sternly shut and he simply stared at Master Splinter and Leonardo expectantly, as if nothing short of an explosion was going to come from his mouth. 

When the silence lapsed for a moment too long, Mike hugged his arms against his chest. “What is it, guys? You’re freaking me out!”

Finally, Leo took a breath and buried his face in his hands.

“It’s cancer.”


	11. An Answer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone for your patience! We’re officially on the final stretch and, more than that, we’re officially on new chapters after almost 10 years. Which is embarrassing when I actually say it out loud!
> 
> Special thanks to Ikara and @slightlycrookedletters for the feedback and support on AO3 and tumblr!

At some time during this unfolding disaster, Leo realized he had unwittingly taken point. Probably by then he was stepping out in an unfortunate impulse born into him through leadership.

The worst of the news he had fortunately been able to deliver to their father in some remote sense of privacy, but things went predictably south once Raphael and Michelangelo were thrown into the mix.

Raph was outraged. 

“What do you mean it’s cancer? How is this possible?” he demanded, spitting in anger.

Crossing his arms over his chest, Leo hoped he portrayed the confidence he so sorely lacked in the matter. No one would have fully understood all of the results LeatherHead went over with him besides Donny himself. And Donny…

Well, it was left to Leo to explain what he could in a way that defused his upset family as much as mutantly possible.

“According to LeatherHead, it’s not just possible but increasingly likely,” Leo explained. “The mutations which have made our bodies and minds what they are, that developed our identities, they’re part of a process that derails our cells and DNA in drastic ways. Which was never that different from how cancer develops to begin with.”

Mike looked at him slightly horrified. “What? We’re just walking around, talking balls of cancer?” 

“No,” Leo said. “I don’t think so.”

“Sure sounds like that’s what you’re saying, Leo,” Raph snapped, ready for a fight, as if the news was something to be fought at all.

“Everyone calm down, that’s not what I’m saying. I’m just explaining why LeatherHead theorizes the cancer got there to begin with,” Leo said. “We’re apparently already susceptible to change, right? Well… Don’s body has been stressed by two _different_ kinds of mutation.”

There was a thoughtful silence before Mikey visibly deflated.

“So this _is_ because of the outbreak virus?” he asked, looking heartbroken. “But… but Don ran a dozen tests on himself! For like a whole week he kept checking himself after that. He was supposed to be good! Bug free!”

Raphael wasted no time in punching the nearest pillar. “We _all_ saw how he acted out there, Mikey,” he growled. “Shoulda known. _Damn it._ I’m going to _kill_ Bishop when I lay my hands on him–”

They all grew silent at the sound of Master Splinter’s walking stick tapping the ground. Like they were hatchlings all over again, they looked to their father.

There were wet rings in the fur around their father’s eyes but no one dared to give comment. 

“Donatello is no senseless beast, even in his current affliction,” Master Splinter reminded them warningly. “The shadows of our past fears loom large, have greatly affected our judgment and actions as of late. That will be accepted no more. We are to move forward. And we are to remember that though these shadows are from our past, they have taken new form in our present.” He then looked expectantly toward Leonardo. “Please, my son, continue to help us understand just what your brother is facing now. As best as any of us can understand it.”

“Of course, Master,” Leo nodded. He then looked to his brothers. “Donny is sick, not monstrous. The outbreak virus hat mutagenic properties, and those changes damaged some of his cells. LeatherHead ran lots of scans. Numerous blood tests. We did a whole checkup throughout the day to make sure there weren’t more spots that were affected and we just hadn’t realized it.”

“And?” Raphael asked, more concerned sounding than his usual snide remark.

“So far there doesn’t seem to be any spread,” Leo explained. “But it’s growing. And,” he trailed off, realizing his own comprehension was faltering. “There’s something about _margins_ that makes him worried that it could.”

“Something?” Mike asked, leaning in. “ _What_ something? You can’t leave us hanging like that!”

“I’m not trying to, Mikey, believe me,” Leo said. “LeatherHead understands the vast majority of what’s going on, and when we go tomorrow to visit with him again, he can better explain it to all of us again.”

“Why isn’t he here explaining it right _now?”_ Raph snapped. “You know what? Forget this. I’ll go get answers from LH myself.”

Hotheadedly as ever, Raphael began to storm toward the door when Master Splinter took his wrist. 

“No, Raph,” Leo said, stepping toward his brother. “LeatherHead’s busy preparing stuff for tomorrow.”

Raphael narrowed his eyes, but he didn’t dare pull away from Master Splinter’s touch. Instead he waited expectantly.

Master Splinter tilted his head then. “And what plans are there for tomorrow, my son?” he asked. “And what is it that we can do to help?”

Feeling more on the spot with Master Splinter questioning him than he had been before, Leonardo swallowed and stood back for a moment. He then steeled himself before continuing. 

“Well, LeatherHead seems to think that our best option is, starting tomorrow, picking a course of action. To treat or remove or _whatever_ we do to help Don from here we have to decide on quickly. And he wants extra hands to help do it,” he explained before turning to face Raphael and Michelangelo directly. “And he thinks – and I agree – that it would be best if we had April help. She’s got plenty of biology experience and will be useful reading up on the research. And we could use Casey for support, too.” He hesitated before adding. “I know you just got home but… this is something best delivered in person.”

“We’ll do it, Leo,” Mike said, seemingly satisfied given something to do. “Come on, Raph.”

Raphael waited a moment before nodding and following Mike out the doors. 

Relieved to have given some reprieve to his brothers, Leo let out a large breath of his own and stood for a moment. 

“I shall prepare things as well, and meditate on the circumstances,” Master Splinter offered. “Thank you, Leonardo. For your leadership and bravery in the face of most dire pressures.”

“I’m not doing anything great or noble right now, Master Splinter,” Leo corrected softly. “But I’m going to try my best all the same.” He glanced toward the stairs. “I’ll join you in meditation shortly, Sensei. But first… I have something else I need to do.”

His father nodded gently and Leo made his way for the stairs. 

* * *

Despite a lot of talk, Leo found himself pausing again and again on the stairs. 

He had a feeling that whatever awaited him in Donny’s room was a dozen times worse than the reactions he had just seen from the rest of his family. After a full day of testing and experimentation, long and drawn out conversations between LeatherHead and Leonardo, Donatello had barely said a word.

A part of Leo had to wonder if, with how often he seemed to just daydream through his life at that point, Donny even heard anything that had been said.

And another part of Leo, a part he had come to hate quite a bit, had to wonder how much better off his brother might have been that way. 

Nothing may have been more opposite of the Donatello that Leo knew and loved than a thoughtless, passive spirit. But at the same time, perhaps that would make things easier. 

If Don _did_ understand what they had learned that day, Leo couldn’t imagine just what state his brother would be in. 

Finally pressing forward and making it to his brother’s room, Leo took in a long breath and opened the door. 

His heart dropped as he saw Donny sitting there in his room. Not at his computer, not with a book in hand, but at his bed. Don was hunched over, a hand over his mouth and a concentrated look on his face.

There was an eerie quiet to him, even with the jittering of his leg.

After a silent pause, Leo knocked on the doorframe to make his presence more known to his brother. 

Almost immediately, Don looked up, wet tracks under his eyes shining. 

“Leo,” Don said softly.

Swallowing hard, Leo shook his head. “Oh, Donny,” he sighed, walking in. “It’s going to be okay–”

“Okay? _Okay,_ Leo?” Don asked, getting to his feet. 

Unsure, Leo readied himself for just about anything from his brother. But he _couldn’t_ have prepared for the way Donatello quickly closed the space between them and threw his arms around Leo’s neck, nearly choking him in a hug. 

“Leo, this… This is the most wonderful! I can’t even _begin_ to…” He took a moment, let out a heavy breath, then held Leo’s shoulders at arm’s length. “Leo, do you understand what all of this means? Please tell me you understand what this means, because I’m probably going to forget it soon, so you’ll have to remind me of the good news!” 

Now completely uncertain, Leo blinked. “Good news?” he asked worriedly. 

“Leo, there’s a _reason!”_ Don told him, shaking him slightly. “Can’t you see? There’s a _reason_ I’ve been like this! I’m not broken! I’m sick! I’m not… I don’t know. But there’s a _reason._ And we can _do_ something about it.”

“We can try to,” Leo corrected before he even realized what he was doing. “What I mean is… Don, you’re _happy_ to learn there’s a tumor?”

“I’m happy I can move on,” Don said, looking at his brother with a watery smile. “Come on, Leo, you have to be, too.”

He wasn’t. Leo stood there and thought of all the reasons he _couldn’t_ be the least bit happy to know there was something growing and hurting his brother’s brain. But he took a breath and looked at Don, at that fleeting happiness.

“I am,” he said, pulling his brother into another hug. “I am, Donny. You’re happy, so I’m happy.”

And he patted his brother shell and hoped the feeling could be held onto just a little longer. 

For everyone’s sake.


	12. A Plan in Motion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this was a quick turn around. Here’s hoping the rest will be as well!
> 
> Special thanks to Ikara for the feedback and support on AO3 and tumblr!

Raphael could not believe how calm and direct Leonardo had been throughout his spiel about it all. Their brother had _cancer_ and he had it in his _brain_ and Leo was just relaying the information like a recording. 

And not even _all_ the information, just enough to start barking out orders to Raph and Mikey again. 

Grinding his teeth, Raph kicked over the nearest trashcan and watched the metal bend and dent as it smacked into the side of the building and roll away. 

It wasn’t enough. But it was _something_ that wasn’t charging back into their home and decking his brother. 

“I can’t _believe_ this!” Raph snapped, turning on his heels to face Mike as the orange banded ninja came to a halt as well. “After all the bull about not jumping to conclusions, about giving Donny space, about acting like _we_ were being ridiculous thinking he was wrong. We were _right!_ We were _right_ and if he had cared about that more than showing us up this whole time he coulda arranged this mess with LeatherHead sooner and gotten us some answers. Answers in time to actually _do something about this.”_

Utterly unlike himself, Mikey was standing in silence, rubbing at his shoulder. 

Taking some time to think about it, Raph realized it was the same shoulder Mike had been rubbing the night Don flipped out on them and pushed past them. It was enough of an oddity to actually bring Raphael’s raging back down to Earth.

“Mikey? Are you listening?” he asked, unable to completely remove the bite from his tone. 

“You don’t think they can do anything about this?” Mikey asked, finally meeting Raphael’s eyes. “You think it’s too late to do anything? Why do you think that?”

Taken aback, Raph looked Michelangelo over before shaking his head. “I didn’t say there was nothing they could do.”

“You _literally_ just said that!” Mike accused loudly. “Why? What else do you know? Why do you think that, Raph!? You can’t just… go for the worst and lose hope for no reason!”

For a moment, Raphael was utterly perplexed by his brother’s commentary before he gritted his teeth and pointing a thick digit at his own temple. “You can when you get told your brother’s sick and the only thing you’re good for is going to get the people who might _actually_ be able to help. Yeah, Mike, I’d say I earned a touch of hopelessness in this. Don’t you?”

Mikey stared back at him for a moment before dropping his head. For the first time, Raphael realized that the cloth around his brother’s eyes were damp. 

“Poor Donny,” Mike said lowly. “Can you imagine how he feels right about now?”

Raph’s own stomach flipped at the thought of their brother having to learn in the same clinical manner that they did about his diagnosis. Only Don didn’t learn from a brother with confidence and a plan already in motion, he learned from LeatherHead. And the big croc was probably lost in his own thoughts and regressed into the sort of scientific talk that had been leaving Don uncharacteristically mystified lately. 

If Don comprehended anything they told him at all. 

And the fact that _that_ had to be a thought in Raph’s mind was enough to ruin him right then and there. 

Don was supposed to be the _thinker_ , after all.

“We should’ve known something was wrong,” Raph said, the words bitter on his tongue. 

“We did, Raph,” Mike said, rubbing at his shoulder again. “I mean, we just… There was no way of knowing what it was. We knew there was something up.”

The sentiment was nice enough, but Raph found his temper mounting all the same. He clenched his jaw as he thought the situation over. “No,” he said lowly. “In the beginning I was… I was just a _real_ jerk to Donny about everything. I didn’t believe there was anything wrong. I just thought… I thought for once he was just as flawed as the rest of us. Thought he just… _forgot._ And it pissed me off because Don wasn’t supposed to forget.” He looked at Mikey tiredly. “He’s the brains.”

Silence fell between them for a moment, as if any further words were crushed by the enormity of the situation sinking in. 

Slowly, though, Mike looked back to Raph. “I had this feeling _all_ day that we would find something out today,” Mike admitted. 

Giving a snort, Raph crossed his arms. “I know. You’re _real_ subtle with your emotions.”

“I thought it was good news,” Mike admitted at last. “I thought… _hey, any news is good news._ Y’know? I never even thought… Couldn’t have _imagined_ what bad news felt like.”

As the silence began to take over again, Raphael released an audible sigh and walked over to his younger brother. He threw a firm arm over Mike’s shoulders. “I know, Mikey. I know.”

Michelangelo dropped his head until his chin was nearly sat on his chest, leaning into Raphael’s chest. When they started walking, Mikey easily followed his brother’s lead in complete trust, not even bothering to look up for himself. 

“C’mon,” Raph beckoned in a tone softer than he normally could manage. “We still gotta get to April and Casey’s. Get April brought up to speed with LH and Leo’s plans. Gotta keep hope.”

“Sounds funny coming from you,” Mikey muttered, a faint smile on his lips.

“Someone’s gotta keep hope alive,” Raph said. “Though I’d prefer if it was you, li’l bro. You wear optimism _way_ better than I do.”

It was enough to get a small laugh on their short journey to the antique store. 

* * *

In truth, Raphael’s words had hit closer to home for Michelangelo than he would have ever cared to admit. 

Deep down, Mikey _knew_ that Leo wasn’t truly flipping between his stances on Don’s mental state frivolously but it didn’t keep it from _feeling_ that way to them. Especially not with how much Mike had just _known_ that the Outbreak had felt hauntingly similar to his encounter with Don but thad trusted Leo’s collective calm over everything enough to hope for a new solution. 

It was just a simple manner that while Raph and Mike were seeing the situation through the same lens, Mikey couldn’t work himself into the outrage that Raphael had felt. He simply _couldn’t._

He knew where Leo was coming from. He, too, had hoped beyond hope for a better answer to their troubles. 

So when they were left with the truly crummy situation that they were at, Mike felt justified in his disappointment. 

They were quiet the rest of the way to April and Casey’s, which was probably why April looked so startled when she opened the back door to their knocking and saw them. 

A flash of concern came over April’s face almost immediately. “Guys?” she asked before leaning her head out enough to look around the rest of the alley. “Where’s Leo and Donny? Is everything alright?” 

Behind April, Casey stepped up to also take a look, and while worry hadn’t yet worked its way across his face he definitely seemed more alarmed than usual. 

“Don’t tell me that Don’s lost again,” April pleaded. 

Casey put a firm hand on April’s shoulder as he stepped up. “You guys need help looking or…”

“Don’s not lost,” Raph answered finally. 

Confused, Casey tilted his head. “ _Oookay._ Then what do you guys look so down about?”

Mikey and Raph looked to one another with knowing looks before glancing back to their friends. 

“Probably best to explain after we’re inside,” Mike said somberly. 

That was enough to get both April and Casey’s attentions and they quickly moved away from the door to allow the two turtles in. Something that Raph and Mike acted on rather quickly, shutting the door behind them. 

April stood by Casey, hugging her arms tentatively. Without having to say a word to him, Casey wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. 

Even without fully knowing what was going to come out of Raph and Mike’s mouths the two were preparing for the worst sort of news. 

Unable to stop himself, Mike realized he was wishing he had had that sort of foresight when he and Raph had walked in on Leo and Master Splinter just earlier.

“Is it about Donny?” April pressed finally, after it was clear that Raph and Mike weren’t about to initiate it. 

“Yeah,” Raph huffed, leaning his shell back against the nearest bookcase. “Yeah, it is.”

As April and Casey were left looking expectantly at them, Mike was left waiting on his brother to continue as well. It then became clear that Raph _wasn’t_ working on moving the situation along and left Mikey to let out a heralding sigh before turning toward their friends.

“Leo took Donny today over to LeatherHead’s place so they could run all kinds of tests and scans and junk to try and figure out what’s been going on with him lately,” Michelangelo explained. “I don’t know _exactly_ what all they did, but they were gone _all_ day.”

“Sounds exhausting,” Casey offered. 

“Wouldn’t know,” Raph huffed. “He had gone to his bedroom before Mike and I got home.”

April’s mouth pressed to a thin line and she turned her attention more directly to Mike. He guessed it might have been the first time he had ever been looked to as the more viable source of information. 

“Mikey, did you all learn anything from that?” she asked, her face screwed together in concentration. 

Reluctantly, Mikey rubbed at his shoulder again. When he looked to his friends he could see that they already knew the answer just by the expressions they wore. April kept it together well but Casey was beginning already to look devastated. 

“LH thinks he’s got cancer, somewhere in his brain,” Mike explained. “It’s what’s making him so sick. And… It might have something to do with the Outbreak.”

With the news made official, Casey clenched his fist and angrily brought it down on the counter behind them. He only stopped there because April gently reached back and touched his chest with her hand. Her own head sunk and eyes squeezed together tight.

"Not Donny,” Casey gritted out all the same. 

“Isn’t there anything we can do?” April asked, looking to them. 

“We can’t,” Raph said bitterly, “but Leo and LH have some sort of plan in the works for tomorrow. They think you can help.”

“Then that’s absolutely what I’ll do,” April said assuredly. “I’ll head to LeatherHead’s immediately if you two will guide me.” She paused, looking back to Casey then to the brothers. “But first… both of you come here.”

Mikey and Raph glanced to each other before reluctantly going forward. 

Honestly, Michelangelo didn’t know what he expected, but it wasn’t for April to jerk both of them forward and hug them tightly. Then pulling Casey in, too. 

“We all can do something,” she promised them. “Whatever this is, this family can _always_ do something. And you will find out what it is because we’re _all_ going to be there from start to finish. We’re going to do whatever we can. All of us.”

For the first time since the news broke, Mike felt like he could breathe. He felt like there was something better than hope available – there was _this._ And he hugged his family back to let them know he wasn’t about to let go of it. 


	13. Fleeting Memory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should note I’m being vague about exact anatomy here not out of a lack of knowledge on turtle anatomy (I actually took my class on it just a year ago in vet school lol) but because I’m not sure how exactly the skulls of *mutant* turtles translate so I’m going half-human half-turtle on this as much as I vaguely can.
> 
> Special thanks to BlueBlingThing for the feedback and support on AO3 and tumblr!

He woke up _happy,_ and that was enough to tell Don that the foggy dreamlike walk he had been taking for ages was beginning to end. 

For so long he could hardly put it into terms, Don had woken up not to a particular emotion but to a slate blankness that improved (or, sometimes, the _worst_ times, _digressed_ ) from that point on. 

The emotionlessness, the confusion, the droll gray that he had been living had been going on long enough that even in his most confused states, Don knew it was supposed to be normal.

Happiness, _excitement,_ was not normal anymore. 

But Don held hope that it soon would be. 

He sat up in his bed, ram rod straight, and put a hand to his chin. 

Good news. He recently had had _good_ news and that was why he was in such a positive state for once. 

Having that happiness gave him enough hope and determination that he began racking his fuzzy, confusion idled brain for any reason at all that he might have felt the way he did. 

If he remembered it, he could find a way to hold onto it, he was _certain_ of it. 

The effort at first seemed to be getting him nowhere, trading that fleeting pleasure with a tinge of aggravation and regret. 

Instead of caving to such things, however, Don looked around the room for some sort of sign, some sort of _clue_ as to what he had been so damn happy about when his eyes locked on the door. 

It was only a flash of memory, of Leonardo and of the whole day before him that had happened and–

There was something _wrong_ with him, Don realized. But not terrible – no, at least, it wasn’t terrible that he _knew_ something was wrong, something was causing him to be the way he was, to think with such a hazy fog and to not remember or be able to process what was around him. 

Not wanting to lose his progress, Don kicked off his sheets and made a beeline to his desk. 

There were probably more delicate and calm ways he could have looked for a pen and paper, but in the heat of the moment Don lost all sensible manners and quickly threw aside half the contents of his desk. 

He grabbed a pen and then reached for printer paper only to freeze and see with some joyous surprise that he had an entire pad of unused sticky notes by his computer mouse. 

“Perfect!” he said contently.

Grabbing the pad and his pen, Don sat on the floor, ignoring his mess, and feverishly began writing everything he could remember about the day before.

There was Leo. And LeatherHead. The tests. His breakfast. The strange flashes of light. The diagnosis. The _treatment._

Don’s chest swelled with pride as he sat back and looked at the sticky notes lined up before him. 

It had been so long since he felt so focused, so _honed._ And he couldn’t help but wonder how long it had been since he had felt that _good_ about much of anything. 

Of course, there was also the question of why he hadn’t thought to write things down before. The sort of thought that simply didn’t sit right with him as it was brought to his attention. 

Before it could bother him too much, however, there was a knock at his door and he quickly looked to see that it was once again Leonardo who was standing there. 

There was an uneasy look on Leo’s face and he seemed reluctant to even be in the room at all. But his eyes were shifting heavily back and forth from Don to the mess just beside the computer desk. 

“Uh, Don?” Leo asked, looking back with the concern still heavily in his gaze. “Is… Are you alright?”

Don smiled genuinely toward his brother and held up some of his sticky notes, the ones that went through all of his conversations with Leonardo and LeatherHead to the best of his memory. He watched as realization lit up Leo’s face when he read over them.

“More than alright,” he said to Leo. “Now let’s get going to LH’s. I’m ready.”

Leo let out a relieved laugh. “I’m glad to hear it, Don. More glad than you even know.”

Gathering up the sticky notepads, Don shoved them into his duffle bag and then slung it around his shoulders. He knew there was a very high chance that if he got off task, things would start to fall apart again, but Don was nothing if not determined. 

It was all going to work out, he had to be _sure_ of it.

* * *

Sometimes even _Leonardo_ wasn’t entirely sure how he managed to be the one to keep things together. 

The words flying back and forth between April and LeatherHead made little sense to him, but he listened and attempted to absorb each and every one of them. A task only made _more_ difficult by the insistence Don had in sharing every other sticky note he wrote on so that the eldest turtle could find somewhere new to add it to the tables and equipment around them.

Donatello’s newfound enthusiasm for memory and for the steps he took into preserving it was a welcomed change of pace, but Leo had little time to humor it when April and LeatherHead seemed intent on bringing up _drastic_ measures. 

“This CT compared even to yesterday’s is showing progressive change. It’s only going to get bigger,” April said, downing what had to have been her third coffee since Leonardo’s arrival. 

Which was staggering considering that, according to Casey, they had been at LeatherHead’s since Mikey and Raphael had stopped by the apartment the night before. 

Leo frowned at the statement and moved his hands over the table’s ample number of printed scans. They had been running tests with painstaking attention to detail since before when it was just Leo and LeatherHead. And the information and seemingly miniscule changes had led to things rapidly becoming more complex than Leo’s timid understanding of medicine and anatomy. 

When Don handed him three more sticky notes, Leo barely glanced over them before finding another spot for them on the leg of the table. 

Donny was on his _second_ pad of notes since they arrived and begun performing tests again. 

“The progressive changes are precisely why I am concerned with any course of action, Miss O’Neil,” LeatherHead said with concern etched deeply into his brow. “Such large changes on such a short time table will make it difficult for us to make a course of action that will still be relevant after the time it would take us to decide what choices to make next. We must _inhibit_ growth first.”

Leo looked for the mass on the scans they had pointed out to him before. An obstruction – a invasive growth in a delicate area underneath the brain. To Leo’s untrained eye it seemed so small, so almost unnoticeable, that he had to glance at the practice scans that LeatherHead had performed on him the day before as a sort of control sample to even really notice.

But, given how April and LeatherHead talked about the tumor, it was large enough to be a true problem. 

“It’s going to continue being dangerous to Don’s health so long as it’s there, right?” Leo asked, glancing up to his friends as he did so. “Until we get rid of it, it’s risking killing him.”

Both April and LeatherHead glanced to each other before fully turning toward Leo. 

Crossing her arms, April nodded. “Yes. Where the tumor is is precarious – it’s not only affecting Don’s hormones which is a big cause of the mood swings and changes he’s been having as well as how the rest of his brain is functioning, it’s close to a bundle of nerves which receive signals from his eyes. It’s making him experience illusions and depreciated light reception. If it’s not removed, those things can only get worse.”

LeatherHead shook his head, a grimace on his face. “However the procedure would require us to have equipment in order to operate through the sphenoidal sinus, and to keep visual so that we may not only remove the obstruction but _also_ keep clear of the carotid arteries which supply blood to his brain. Hitting those will have _disastrous_ outcomes.”

“It requires a nanite camera – which we have built before,” April argued already. “And if we put off the surgery a few hours, you and I can practice with the equipment for the surgery a few times on models.”

“I must build the equipment, Miss O’Neil, and it was _Donatello’s_ specialties for nanite technology before which he has far more experience in than either of us,” LeatherHead sighed heavily. “I am uncomfortable with speaking in terms of _hours_ , we need patience. Which we can only afford by inhibiting grown first. Perhaps some of the studies we read on matrix metalloproteinases–”

April took her turn shaking her head. “You think there’s not time to waste on _practice_ but that there’s time to track down and – what? – _steal_ rare pharmaceuticals?” she demanded. 

Leonardo stepped forward, grabbing the scientists’ attention again. “What is the _safest_ option for Don?” he asked. “I want us to do whatever _that_ option is, alright?”

The two looked ready to debate the new angle when there was an unexpected voice clearing behind them. 

They all turned and looked at Don who was holding up sticky notes and wearing a very, _very_ exhausted smile. 

“I think, maybe, _I_ should be the one getting a say in this, guys? Just a bit?” he pointed out, stepping forward and peeling the sticky notes he stuck to his arms off one by one. “I’m feeling better today, but I know the only reason for that is because I’m… _focused._ Because I have an answer and as long as that’s front and center I’ve been able to write down everything else. Everything I’m scared of forgetting.” His eyes flickered up to them. “But I still see things blurry. And there’s a song I can just about hum that keeps playing in my head even though I’m pretty sure it’s not really there. And I can’t write _everything_ down because… I don’t know what’s important until it’s gone. Like breakfast this morning. No idea. Did I even eat breakfast?” 

When Leo realized his brother was looking to him for an answer, he swallowed down a breath he didn’t realize he was holding and nod. “Yeah. Toast.”

Don’s smile grew brittle. “Yeah. I don’t even know if I remember what toast tastes like,” he said with a striking honesty that felt painful to Leo. He then glanced to April and LeatherHead. “It might be risky, but we’ve gotta operate. Because it’s worth the risk to _me._ And I should be the factor that matters right now, right? I should get to decide if I remember toast or not. So… how about it? Before I forget this conversation happened can you give me your word that you’ll try to remove this thing? That we’ll do it as soon as possible and not waste time on inhibitors and drugs and things we can’t possibly get a regular supply of anyway?”

They looked at Don and Leo felt his breath taken away all over again. 

It was _him._ It was his brother, right there in front of him again. At least, however much he could afford to be right then. 

Leo swallowed and nodded. “Absolutely, Don,” he promised. “You’re the deciding factor.”

April and LeatherHead looked to each other. 

“We can start reading up on the procedure now, I’ll read out loud while you construct the equipment and think of some creative things with that Utrom-taught genius brain of yours,” April offered, grabbing a nearby medical textbook.

“And I shall ask the turtles to call the Justice Force on my behalf and ask of advice from their nanite expert who corresponded with Donatello,” LeatherHead nodded. “The more influential technology across species the better.”

It all sounded like a plan, but Leonardo still felt fear gripping him.

He watched as Don walked back to the desk and began reading over the various notes with no look of familiarity on his face.


	14. The Best That One Can

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Updates are going to be a touch irregular again but only because I’m back to school full time plus my job. But we’re so close to the end! I’m really dedicated to trying to get this bad boy finished at the end of the day, so hopefully the next update will be soon : ) 
> 
> Special thanks to Ikara for the feedback and support on AO3 and tumblr!

There was very little he could do, but Splinter never resigned himself to being _useless_  no matter how much his old bones may have felt it. 

With two buckets of bleach, three unopened sponges, and a finely cleaned mop he had spent the whole night inspecting and sanitizing to his own satisfaction, and the long rolls of plastic which Casey Jones had managed to supply for them, Master Splinter set out to complete the one task he knew he could perform better in this process than any of his sons or extended family.

On his hands and knees, Splinter began the process of painstakingly cleaning each brick and crevice in the cleaned out laboratory of LeatherHead’s home. 

With his sponges and mop, the bleach, and other various antiseptics and mopping soaps his family supplied for him at each and every request, Master Splinter started in the very furthest corner of the room and brick by brick cleaned the room from floor to wall to ceiling. 

He went over each corner three then four then _six_ times before moving on to his second wash. 

Between drying periods, Splinter checked on the other preparations.

Splinter watched as his healthy sons and Casey scrapped together operating tables and beds, or as April and Michelangelo returned from a visit with the mysterious friends they had in the Justice Force, carrying in pieces of technology that the old rat master could not begin to decipher for himself.

But mostly he watched studiously as LeatherHead and April practiced their approaches and planned out their courses of action. 

The heated debates between them worried Splinter’s soul, but not as much as the fact that Donatello seemed actively participating in _all_ of the activities at once when he wasn’t staring off and hearing nothing from them.

Master Splinter took notice of how Donatello avoided not him but the room which was designated for the risky operation at hand. 

He could not blame his son for that, a touch of mortality even Donatello was not fully prepared to face.

After the last wash of the room, Master Splinter grabbed the rolls of plastic and then began the process of rolling them out on the floors, overlapping every piece so as to not leave a corner or strip bear. Then he began hanging them from the walls and ceiling.

It took hours, and not long into it the feel of the plastic numbed his nimble fingers and caused his joints to ache.

But he continued. It was the very _least_ he could do.

His attention to detail was all but unmatched among their close family, and his natural cleanly habits had made him uniquely qualified for the daunting task of preparing the room for his son’s upcoming procedure. 

More than all of that, however, Splinter had a duty to the room which held the fate of his son. He blessed each stroke of his hands, whispered reverences to each roll of the plastics, and asked for the benevolence of each spirit which passed through their world as he did each task. 

It was a humbling task that he and he alone had the compulsion to do. 

With his work complete, Splinter left the room to tell April and LeatherHead of its preparedness. He was not expecting to see all four of his sons waiting on him.

Waiting on him in civilian disguises no less.

Splinter stared hard at his children and thrashed his tail. “Is there a plan you wish to inform me of, my sons? On the night where this endeavor is most imminent?” 

The entire time he was hardly able to take his eyes off of Donatello. His son seemed quiet and at ease despite everything. _Comfortable,_ even.

“Yes, Master,” Leonardo answered. 

“With Donny about to, y’know, go through a bunch of stuff,” Michelangelo began to explain, grabbing Donatello’s shoulders. “We figured he needs one night before it all to just, relax a bit! Get his spirits up! Happy brain’s a healthy brain and all that – want him to be all happy thoughts for this… whatever this is.”

Splinter hardened his gaze, unsure of the true nature of the request. 

Raphael stepped forward. “We want to take Don out for some air and relax him, Sensei. Let it be healthy for him and everything.”

Donatello forced a small smile toward their father. “I actually asked for it, Master Splinter.”

“We just didn’t want to do anything rash without your knowledge or say so first,” Leonardo continued. “We are taking the utmost caution. But this is… It’s important to keep Don in good spirits and all, Master Splinter.”

“Yeah! We read it in an article and stuff,” Michelangelo said, producing a wrinkled up science journal for him.

Master Splinter accepted the paper but did not look to read it for himself just yet. Instead he looked to his sons and felt the ache deep in his heart. The fear that seized him in the wake of everything about to happen, the anxiety rolling off of his children. _Everything._

He took a breath and nodded. “Of course, my sons. But not for long. Not too far. And please be gentle–”

Without warning, Donatello wrapped his arms around Master Splinter’s neck. It was an action that shocked all parties, but soon melted into something warm and painful in Splinter’s chest. 

He hugged his son back. 

“Be in good spirits, my son,” he whispered. “They are well earned.”

“Okay,” Donatello said back, moving back to his brothers as they headed out the door. 

Watching his sons, Master Splinter waited, then moved to where April and LeatherHead worked. He still needed to let them know the room was finished, then he needed to lie down and allow himself to be winded. 

There were tears in his eyes that were not deserved yet.

* * *

It shouldn’t have surprised Don that their first stop was pizza. Because _of course_ their first stop was pizza. There was hardly any way it would have been otherwise. 

But it did. He hadn’t even _thought_ of pizza since the whole business with his brain had begun – maybe before that even.

As he sat on their favorite overlook with his siblings, really taking in the sights of their city, he felt a certain tug beneath the surface of his carapace. A subtle pinging that ached him from beak to toe.

He knew he had wasted a lot of time by ignoring his own problems and he had maybe made things worse. And he knew that the sticky notes collected on his forearm at the moment were likely not going to continue being of help keeping his thoughts straight if things got worse, but as he looked at his family – as he looked at the jovial tone they had forced just for his sake that night – he only felt bad that all the weeks of conflict and strife over his behavior could have been better spent doing exactly _this_ with his loved ones.

That, more than not accepting there was something wrong with him, more than anything, he regretted.

“You usually hate that many olives on your pizza, Don,” Mike joked, bumping shoulders with Donatello again as he laughed. 

“Yeah,” Don said with a soft laugh. “I guess you’re right. Explains why I don’t like it.”

There was a small flicker of pain on his brother’s face that immediately Don caught. Even if Mikey did his level best to disguise it directly afterward. 

“It’s fine, Mikey. We’re all fine,” Don assured him, not missing how Raph threw his crust down into the alley below, apparently having lost his appetite at the unexpected reminder of the impending procedure. “Right? We’ll get through.”

“ _You,_ Donny. _You_ will get through,” Raphael corrected, giving Don a glare. “You’re the one taking the risk here.” 

“We _all_ are,” Don argued gently. “You guys look way more worse for wear over this right now than I do.”

They all shifted, but rather than away from Don they came a bit closer. Mike and Leo suddenly touched shoulders with him from where they sat. And even Raphael was noticeably closer, a hand reaching back behind Mike’s shell and grasping Don’s shoulders firmly.

It was the silent solidarity that really got Don. He lowered his pizza and shakily looked to his hands before reaching for a pen in his belt loop, writing the moment down on a sticky note to join his collection.

He was so dedicated to chronicling the moment as quickly as he could, Don ignored the spots in his vision and the low hum beginning to invade his ears. None of it was as important as making sure he didn’t forget the moment with his brothers.

“Easy, Donny,” Raphael’s voice carried.

It was enough to make Don realize that his brothers were holding him back a bit from a sway that nearly sent him rolling forward off their perch on the roof. 

“Maybe we should get somewhere not so, y’know, _high,”_ Mike pointed out, clapping Don’s shoulder a few times for good measure.

Leo’s eyes settled on Don’s, managing to hold his gaze even in the growing spottiness. “Is there anything _you_ want to do next, Don? It’s your night.”

Smiling a bit, Don nodded and ignored the way his whole world shook around the small motion. “Yeah, actually, it’s been… well, not on my mind, but I’ve needed to go there for a while.”

The other three looked to each other, visibly confused for a moment, before focusing back on Don. 

“Sure, Don. Anything you need,” Leo assured him once more. 

“I need to go to the lair,” Don explained. “The old one – the _original_ lair.”

Raph huffed and looked off. “It’s not around anymore, Don. It’s rubble–”

Mikey elbowed their red banded brother sternly and gave him a warning look before glancing back to Leo. “It’ll be a little tricky, but we can do it if that’s what you really want, Don. Right, Leo?” 

“Of course,” their eldest said as he got to his feet and offered Donatello a hand. “Is it what you want, Don?”

“Yes,” Don replied without hesitation. He took his brother’s hand and pulled himself back to his feet, swaying slightly and being immediately held up by all of his siblings. “Yeah, let’s do it.”

They all began their descent from the rooftop. Muscle memory for the action was so ingrained in Don he nearly allowed it to take over – he had to keep focus. 

That was his struggle, he had learned. The moment he wasn’t focused things began to slip from him, and the static that clung to the edges of his vision began to win over and the sensations around him would be lost. 

And the worst part of all of it was that he would not care once it started, if it could even be argued that his mind was able to retain true understanding of it at all. 

So while fear clearly grew just beneath the surface of each and every bit of his family’s actions that night, Don knew he was making the right choice for himself ultimately. 

The _only_ choice he could make for himself ultimately. 

The trip to the old lair did not take much time. Not with his brother pushing each other around and attempting brevity as best they could, and not with Don scrambling to read over rushed sticky notes, committing the memories of each ones he could see clearly in his own mind. 

But just as his brothers had warned, once they got there they were faced with the crumbled remains of their old home and not much else. 

Don stood at what was once their door and felt the static clog his brain a bit more with the disappointment. Color drained from his vision. 

“This what you wanted, Don?” Leonardo asked, a bit awkward and stiff about it. 

“Yeah,” Don said, though his voice wasn’t convincing even to his own crackling ears. 

Michelangelo came up and threw his hands onto Don’s shoulders, squeezing them a bit. “It’s okay, Don. I really miss it sometimes, too.”

Biting his lip, Don shook his head lightly, the world spinning a bit around him in response. “It’s not that, Mikey. Not really. I was… Well, I was kind of hoping to find something while we were here and…”

There was an uncomfortable shift shared by all of his brothers at once, though only Raphael went so far as to let out a loud growl and shake his head. 

“Let me guess, they happen to be a ring of keys?” Raph asked only to get elbowed by both Leo and Mikey at once. He didn’t seem apologetic even with the elbows, however, and glared back at them.

The bare mention of his keys got Don’s attention, and he nearly began to turn and look for them, but he noticed the sticky notes instead – and how grayed it all seemed as that creeping sense of deja vu began once more. 

He grabbed a sticky note and clutched it tightly to keep the thoughts at bay for just a little longer. 

“Do you remember,” Don said, turning to his brothers. “Us living here. And it was black and white.”

A beat of silence carried on between them for just a moment too long. They all glanced to each other then back to Don. Varied expressions of worry were clear on their faces upon doing so. 

“Uh, no,” Mike offered out loud. 

Don wasn’t discouraged by the response, however. He _knew_ what he was talking about was real, if only he could make sense out of it. He brazenly continued. 

“We were here and there was this couple,” Don explained, ignoring the scene playing out in his head with perfect timing. “They were dressed so neat – like they were going somewhere important. And the weather was nice. They had to be from a movie, they had to–”

Then, at once, it clicked. Don gasped. His brothers jolted forward to him. 

“Don!? Are you alright!?” they all called out discordantly. 

“It was a _movie,”_ Don continued, turning back toward where their home should have been. He raised his hands up and let out a small laugh in relief. “They’ve been from a movie! This whole time I was thinking of them and they were just from an old black and white–”

Leo tilted his head. “Donny, you’ll have to catch us up a bit. We don’t know what you’re talking about. At _all.”_

“The first television I made for us,” Don laughed, voice warm and fond even in his throat. “Remember? I didn’t figure out how to completely rewire it or the cable yet, so the picture was all black-and-white for us at first?”

“Whoa!” Mike shouted out, eyes widened. “I _do_ remember that!”

“I haven’t thought about that in forever,” Raph marveled. 

“The first thing we ever watched was some dumb romantic comedy that was running on syndication,” Don laughed, rubbing his face. “That’s what I’ve been thinking of – _that’s_ what I’ve been remembering. I… I know I’m sick, but I just needed to know I wasn’t making that up – I had to force myself to remember what was so important about that. And now I know – it’s the first thing we all watched together like that.” He looked at them. “My brain doesn’t want to forget it more than anything else for some reason.”

The words hadn’t even finished leaving his mouth when he was jumped to enclose him in a hug. 

Don hugged them all back without hesitation. 

He hoped he would never need a sticky note or coaxing from his loved ones to remember how much they all meant to him in that moment. 


	15. Waiting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of this chapter is ridiculous relevant to this fanfic as a whole and I’m not sure who to blame that irony on haha. Me, of course. Definitely me. 
> 
> Special thanks to Ikara for the feedback and support on AO3 and tumblr!

Leonardo knew that there was not much to do at that point. 

There was still the thought of turning back, of doing anything he could to prevent what was about to take place from going forward, but he knew that was only postponing the inevitable. 

Things were moving so fast in their lives only to get ready for the longest stop imaginable. 

After their night out on the town with Don, they returned to spend more time sitting around the lair. With the hours counting down until the operation, only Don – who seemed perpetually exhausted compared to the rest of them – was able to sleep. 

The rest of them sat around him in the living room, molding into the couches and chairs and barely moving, even when their brother woke and stretched and played a game of twenty questions with them to check the validity of his sticky note taking. 

At some point when Leo was still firmly inside of his own head, Casey had joined the waiting game.

He sat next to Raphael, hushed tones and the occasional joke between them to keep things lighter than usual. It was perhaps the calmest that Leonardo had seen his hot headed brother since the start of the turmoil. 

Leo would have concentrated on the sincere moment longer if Master Splinter hadn’t visibly stiffened beside him, leading Leo to look as well as April entered the area and cleared her throat. 

She was wearing a disposable paper surgery gown, a face mask drawn close across her mouth, and her hair kept tightly back and under a cap. It was an alarming sight really, enough to make Leo feel chilled to his carapace. 

“Don, are you ready?” she asked gently.

Quietly, Don got to his feet and looked to his family, holding the sort of brittle confidence in his smile that Leo wished he still had the strength to portray. 

Before Don could take the first step, Mikey dove forward and hugged his brother’s waist. And, in an uncharacteristic display, he didn’t say anything to add to it. 

Taking the cue, Leo stood beside his brothers and hugged Don’s shoulders leading to a cascade of their father then Raphael then Casey himself joining in the embrace. 

They held the silent moment as long as they could, clinging to it, before Leo exhaled strongly through his nostrils and pulled them apart. “Come on, Don,” he said lowly. “Let’s get this done with.”

Casey and Raph broke the hug a little readily, though Raph’s hand lingered over Don’s shoulder for a last squeeze. Michelangelo tightened his embrace almost petulantly at first but slowly released Don, though it was more to wipe his wet eyes than anything else. Master Splinter as already ahead, looking back for Don and Leo to follow. 

Don’s bravado only grew more solid on his face as he stepped forward. Determination hardened whatever brittleness had existed previously and soon even Leo felt dwarfed in the face of his brother’s obvious courage. 

They didn’t move to the newly built operation theater first, but rather stopped just outside at the small station Master Splinter had worked tirelessly on the day before. 

Slowly, almost reluctantly, Don reached up for the mask on his face. His pads and belt had been taken off the night before and never returned to their proper places, but his mask stayed securely at his face. 

The moment his fingers reached the fabric, however, Don’s determined stare grew again and he wasted little time taking off the mask and then taking his seat at the station. 

April hurried into the operation room in silence. 

Leo and Splinter came to Don’s sides and began methodically washing him down, especially his head and neck, his face. 

“Hey, Leo,” Don said lowly as they washed him.

“Yeah, Don?” Leo asked gently. 

“Was it really a TV the whole time? Did I not dream that?” Don asked. 

Master Splinter grew a curious look aimed toward Leonardo, but he continued the task at hand rather than giving the curiosity voice. He was almost more determined than Don himself. 

“Yeah, that’s what you told us,” Leo answered. 

“When was that? Last night?” Don continued.

“It was last night,” Leo replied gently. “You’re doing a good job remembering.”

“It was on one of the sticky notes,” Don answered with a sigh. There was almost a humor to his tone, though it was seeped in quiet annoyance. “But I already forgot what we did before that. It was on another note I read earlier.”

“Pizza,” Leo informed him. “We ate pizza.”

“That sounds awesome,” Don laughed as they sat him back up. “We’ll have to do it again. After all this.”

For the first time in hours, maybe _days,_ Leo looked at his brother with a genuine smile. “Yeah, Don. Definitely.”

As Don got up to his feet and readied to walk into the operation room, he grabbed on tightly to Leo’s wrist. 

Looking at him questioningly, Leo tilted his head. 

“I know I can’t promise this, Leo, but I _want_ to promise you that I’ll never forget all you guys have been doing for me,” Don said seriously. “I know how crazy all this is, I know it’s so much and I know I probably don’t know the _half_ of what you guys had to put up with from me but–”

“But nothing,” Leo said, guiding Don forward. “We’re family. We’d do anything.”

Don nodded gently, his fierce determination restored. 

“And, besides,” Leo could’t help but joke, “you _really_ think Mike and Raph will pass up on the chance to rub this in your face later?”

“Ha, you’re right,” Don snorted. “What was I thinking?”

* * *

They had practiced what felt like a hundred times. And while the pressure and the aggravation of it all had gotten to them more than once, even LeatherHead had to admit that he and April moved like a synchronized machine by the time they readied the operation table one last time. 

They washed up for the procedure, shoulder and shoulder, uncertain if the various equipment they had created and siphoned off friends over the past few days would be remotely enough.

All that was left for them was to hope.

To hope and to do everything _precisely_ as practiced – _better_ than practiced.

The plastic sheets at the door of the operation room opened and Leonardo led Donatello in. Splinter, at their sides, stopped short of the door – not daring to risk misplacing a single hair in the sterilized environment. 

“We just need you to lay back on this, Don,” April said calmly, waving to the table.

Another expression passed between the brothers before Donatello followed instructions. 

LeatherHead had never seen his friend so determined, but his instincts as a crocodile made him privy to the subtle layers of fear hidden just beneath Donatello’s facade. And it was more than understandable. 

Once Don had settled, LeatherHead made a point of coming to his old friend’s side and offering a small smile. “We will do everything we can,” LeatherHead promised. “And then we will go above and beyond even that.”

Don smiled tiredly. “I know,” he replied. “There’s no two people I trust more in the world.” He paused then glanced to his brother. “Leo, are…”

“I’m here, Don,” Leo promised. “I’ll be here when you go to sleep, and I’ll be here when you wake up. How’s that sound?”

“Sounds needy,” Don sighed, laying back on the table. “Thanks. And… could you write down to tell you thanks later? I don’t want to forget it.”

“We’ll remind you,” Leo said readily and without thinking – LeatherHead wondered if they had had the conversation before. 

That thought alone saddened him.

Once Don was ready, April and LeatherHead both stepped up to gently secure him in place for the operation, they attached equipment in practiced order, then April administered the anesthesia.

Donatello’s once observant and ever calculating eyes were fixated in the direction of his brother only, not appreciating the fine machinery around them. And as the anesthesia quickly did its work, those soft brown eyes grew lax, and slowly rolled back as his lids fluttered shut.

At the same time, April and LeatherHead looked to the machines and checked on all of their precious friend’s vitals.

When everything checked out, they moved to the next step.

LeatherHead noticed how Leonardo lingered. “We are ready to begin, Leonardo,” he warned. “Are you certain you wish to see this–”

“Absolutely,” Leo said, nearing the table, though no too close as to contaminate. “Absolutely,” he repeated quietly.

* * *

After Master Splinter had joined them, the waiting began.

For weeks their lives had been nonstop motion – _years,_ if they weren’t trying to be generous – of one thing after another. One concern after another. 

Then Don left, Master Splinter returned, and their lives came to a grinding, irrefutable stopping point.

Raphael _hated_ it. He hated it so much that he couldn’t _stand_ it. 

Every fiber of his being wanted to pick up his things and leave. Return later, do _anything_ but sit around and feel useless. Weak. _Incapable._ Guilty–

Beneath his surface, Raphael was running the collective gambit on emotions. Emotions he didn’t have any _right_ to at that point so far as he was concerned. Not when it wasn’t him in the other room, when it wasn’t him doing everything he could have to _be_ there for his brother even before they knew what was wrong. 

As always, he felt too much and couldn’t do anything _with_ the feelings. 

If he didn’t have Casey by his side, occasionally bumping elbows with him and giving him a knowing look, Raph would have left in the first ten minutes of waiting. 

He would’ve missed Master Splinter making the first of many teas. 

Then he would have left after the second hour. He would’ve missed the first failed attempt at a movie Mikey proposed watching that they all quickly lost interest in. 

After that he might’ve left during the fifth hour, when his pacing began and Casey began to nod off, no amount of tea or coffee or pizza able to undo the past eighteen hours of staying up with April and LeatherHead, constructing whatever was needed. 

But Raphael stayed – stopped. Stuck. Just _there._

And he wasn’t so sure there was anything else he could’ve done. 

And waiting, as it turned out, was maddening even then. Even after having practiced it for endless hours. Even after Mikey had given up on trying to find a decent flick for watching. 

Master Splinter hadn’t even bothered asking Raphael if he wanted the next cup of tea when a sound disrupted each and every one of them. 

The sound of plastic against plastic had never been more pristine, more breathtaking. 

They all looked at once and watched with wide eyes as not only April but LeatherHead as well stepped out. 

They were not wearing the same gowns that April had had on when she came to get Don, nor were they wearing gloves anymore, their face masks hanging around their necks, April’s hair sticking out of her sweat wet cap. 

They looked exhausted to the point of miserableness, but the weariness did not meet their eyes. 

“We’re done with this leg of it,” April announced.

Everyone rose to their feet at once, a tempered silence still waiting on baited breath. 

“The procedure for now seems successful,” LeatherHead answered the unasked. “We removed all that we had detected previously of the mass.”

That broke the ice and relief rushed over all of them. 

Raphael, unable to help himself, dropped back onto the couch he had shared with Casey. He let out a shaky breath and cupped his hands around his eyes. There were tears there against his command and he hoped that even if Casey was patting his shoulders, it didn’t mean his closest friend could see the true depths of how shaken he was.

“You can go sit with him now if you wash up,” April continued. “Give Leo some company. He refuses to leave.”

Raph, Mike, andSplinter didn’t ask for clarification beyond that. 

Rather, they harmoniously moved forward and wrapped their arms around their friends however momentarily, then broke away to do just that. 

The waiting continued, but Raphael at least no longer felt like his life had completely stopped to a standstill. 


	16. Found

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And almost a decade later this little practice of catharsis is finally complete, and I feel like I’ve finally been able to settle with the fact that things aren’t the same in my real life either. 
> 
> I want to thank each and every person who has helped or supported this story over the years. It has meant a whole lot to me – I never set out with this story as a means to really mean anything to anyone else, but just as a way to help myself cope with a very serious situation I experienced. And to see that something about that experience could resonate or be meaningful to others has been truly inspiring and gratifying. So thank you all. 
> 
> And an extra special thanks to @theeffar who encouraged me to pick this story up after such a long passage of time. You mean the world to me <3
> 
> Special thanks to Ikara and Katstories for the feedback and support on AO3 and tumblr!

His head throbbed something awful. 

Really, it was one of the worst pains he had ever experienced. As far as he was aware, at least.

The skin around his head was tight, compressed tight to his skull. His mouth was heavy and throat swollen, throat seemingly only good for swallowing wisps of air and eliciting a low moan from time to time.

It _hurt._ It all hurt. Even his eyes, when he attempted to flutter them open, felt thick and bruised. 

He drifted between the numbing pain and the blankness of rest – in and out. 

Time was fairly meaningless throughout the exchange between the two states. 

Then, in a dull thrum, he made out a word.

“Don.”

Focused on the sound, on its repetition, he came to the realization that his eyes were open and staring down the trail of blinding light. 

That seemed disheartening at first, though he couldn’t remember _why_ it was so disheartening. 

But, to his surprise, the light moved away from his vision and left him staring instead at dark but natural looking figures behind it. 

“Pupils are better,” the voice muttered. 

“Don,” another said, also drawing Don’s attention. “There we go.”

“Do you remember your name?” 

Slowly, he thought through the question. He _really_ gave it consideration before nodding his head lightly. The motion alone shook him so much he felt his eyes roll back into their sockets before he righted himself again.

Not that he righted himself entirely on his own – soft, gentle hands guided his shoulders. 

“Daahun,” he answered finally.

At that, his hand received a squeeze, which led Don to realizing for the first time that his hand was in someone else’s hand. 

“Do you know who I am?” the first voice asked softly.

The words came slightly faster. “Aaaperl.”

His hand was squeezed more excitedly that time, and a warmth came over his body.

“Don,” the second voice continued, seriously. “Do you remember what happened last night? Where we went?”

The question took him by surprised. He stared dully, unsure what to do with it, what it was even _wanting_ from him. 

When the pause lapsed for a moment too long, Don realized his hand was not being squeezed. He felt the warmth drain slightly – weren’t they happy with him?

“How many fingers am I holding up, Donny?” A new voice asked, shoving a hand into his vision.

He stared dully at the appendage, his head throbbing.

Slowly, he closed his eyes. 

There was an unhappy noise around him and his hand wasn’t squeezed. 

As much as he hated disappointing them, he was just _so_ tired…

* * *

He didn’t know how much time had lapsed since the general fog of pain and confusion had lifted, or how long he had been drowning in it before that. It felt both like it had been no time at all and like he had spent ages being cared for in his bed.

Don, at the very least, recognized who he was. And who was sitting on the end of his bed playing Go Fish. 

His brothers and father were the constants in his fog. There no matter if April and LeatherHead were or were not, whether Casey was bombastically yelling or not, whether his surroundings were some strange plastic dome or his own bedroom. 

They were always there. And Don always felt like he was grounded by their presence. 

Sitting, propped up on pillows in his bed, Don watched fondly as his three brothers guessed each other’s cards on the end of his bed. As his father readied tea for him. 

His mouth was still dry and head settled on a neutral thrum as opposed to the outright throbbing he had been plagued by not so long ago. 

And despite thoughts presenting themselves through the murky forefront of his mind, Don had not found much to actually _say_ since the fog had peeled back. 

“Hey, guys,” April’s voice called from the door. 

Slowly, Don adjusted his gaze from his family to his friend. He felt a complicated mess of emotions upon seeing her. 

On the one hand, there was loving joy – the friend he felt an overwhelming thankfulness toward for saving his life, even if the details had been blurred and lost in his thoughts, but also the doctor who had forced him through brain exercises and the continuously met defeat of not having advanced _enough._

Not enough to being _Donatello_ again. At least not in the eyes of those around him. 

“Just need to ask you a few questions again, sorry, I _know,”_ April said, walking on into the room with a stack of large cards in her hands. 

Without even having to be asked, Don’s brothers moved from the end of the bed and allowed April to take their spot. 

A little weakly, Don glanced toward Master Splinter and found the rat was withdrawing the freshly made tea momentarily. But his father still met his gaze, offered a gentle smile, and patted Don’s shoulder gingerly. 

By the time he looked back to April, she had already set up close to him, holding up the large cards with cartoonish images on each.

“House, car, plane, turtle,” April said slowly, pointing to each corresponding card. 

Don studied them and nodded. 

April stacked the cards and showed them to Don, one by one, in order. 

“House,” Don muttered. He steeled his voice to really make a point of his knowledge with the next three. “Car, plane, turtle.”

The smile that immediately came to April’s face nearly filled Don’s chest with joy. He felt Master Splinter’s hand squeeze his shoulder proudly and watched in the periphery how his brothers all looked genuinely pleased with the minor successes.

After mixing the cards a few times, April continued their routine until Don’s tired, numb tongue felt like it was working even without his concentration. “Car, house, plane, turtle. Turtle, car, plane, house. Plane, house, turtle, car.”

The thrumming of his skull picked up to a minor throb but Don was almost too pleased with his own success to pay it all that much mind. After all, he had done so well, and what’s more was that he _knew_ it. 

The world _almost_ felt aligned. 

“Okay, good job, Donny,” April said. “I just need to ask you some questions.”

Almost immediately, Don’s throat tightened up and he grew stiff and uncomfortable. These were _always_ the hardest parts. And even his supportive family shifted somewhat uncomfortably with his impending failure obviously right before them. 

He ducked his head slightly, trying to remain rational, and felt Master Splinter squeeze his shoulder once again. 

“All shall be well, my son,” Splinter said confidently. “There is no failure here.”

But Don could not believe those words. Not fully. 

“Okay,” April said, reshuffling the cards and setting them aside. “Tell us your full name.”

“Donatello,” Don replied readily, the throb picking up in pace.

“And my name,” April pressed.

“April,” he answered. 

She smiled. “And my last name?”

The throbbing worsened.

Don felt his throat grow tight and he squinted at her. He _knew_ the answer. It was even a question he had answered correctly on occasion. But try as he might, his brain only throbbed and his eyes grew heavy. 

“I…” he muttered, sinking back into his pillows and feeling his father’s grip tighten. 

“Try just a bit harder, Don, I know you can do it,” April pushed in that way that Don had come to hate, even if a part of him deep down still knew how rational her request really was.

“I _am,”_ he moaned, bringing his hands fumblingly up to the sides of his head. 

“It’s okay, Don,” Leo said, stepping up. 

“Yeah, you’ve almost got it,” Raphael added, not quite catching on to the silent hysteria deep in his brother’s chest at the moment. 

“You can do it, Donny!” Mike cheered. 

His head hurt so badly he was left no recourse but to collapse against his pillows, disappointed more in himself than any of his support system could ever fully be. 

Master Splinter’s grip tightened all the more. “It is fine, my son,” Splinter assured him. “We are _most_ proud of your successes already.”

The words were meant for comfort, but as Don grabbed at his head he could only produce stomach sinking tears as he shook his head. “H-how?” he demanded. “How am I supposed to be _Don_ if I can’t think? It’s what I _do.”_

“Don’t be like that, Don,” Raph said, stepping up even closer that Leo. “Do you have any idea how happy we all are that you’re alive right now? For crying out loud, we thought for a bit there that we were going to lose you.”

Don shook his throbbing head. “Maybe… you still did.”

“No way,” Mike piped up. “You’re too hard on yourself to _not_ be our Donny. You can’t fool us!”

He remained unconvinced when Leonardo dropped to his knees right by Don’s side and leaned in by Don. Leo’s hand squeezing his own. “You are our brother. No matter what changes, no matter what you think you can or can’t do from this point on. We’re so happy to have you alive and improving each and every day. _That’s_ the most important part for us. Don’t ever think otherwise.”

“Yeah, we’ve got your back,” Mike assured him.

With some reservation, Don glanced toward Raphael for further assurance. 

He got it in the form of a sad smile and a tight nod. 

“Th-thank you,” Don said, melting into the hug his family was in sync in giving him. “Thank you, everyone. For _everything.”_

“Don’t worry, Don,” Leo whispered close to him. “I remembered to let everyone know. 

Don hugged them all back contently, feeling the throbs of his head regress back to a gentle thrum.

He just needed some sign – some sign that he was just at the _start_ of his recovery and not reaching a new ceiling to his successes. 

He just didn’t know what the sign could be.

* * *

Time passed, and things were slow.

They kept telling him that things would be slow, but even his family at times fell to the frustrations of things _not_ being the same as they had been before.

Weeks after the procedure that very well may have saved his life _and_ his mind, a sick feeling overtook Don. The kind that felt as though he may never quite be the turtle he once was. 

He took time relearning certain things, and at times he was surprised how easily old habits crept back into his day-to-day once he was cleared for venturing around the house unguided more. 

At one point, he fixed the toaster without a second thought and earned Michelangelo’s complete devotion.

But for every quote remembered or theory recited, Don found himself set back by things he would have never imagined before holding him back. 

Sitting at a computer screen or even watching television for too long blurred his vision and brought upon intense migraines. He had trouble staying on task in conversations he wasn’t interested in. And more than once, over a phone, he found it near impossible to associate a disembodied voice with a person. 

Things were still changed, maybe still changing. 

But his memory – those months of lost confusion that seemed to be the cause of his pain – was nearly irreplaceable.

He couldn’t make sense of it, but the best anyone could assume was that during those worst moments, his brain had just decided to no longer record. Part of his life simply did not exist for himself. 

And while he was certain that there probably shouldn’t have been too much worry there – that his missing moments were probably things he wouldn’t have wanted to remember out of hand either way – it bothered him. 

It left him feeling incomplete.

He spent hours with the lights off, sitting in his lab with his sights on the bookshelves, trying to push his memory recall as far as it could without threat of hurtful stimuli like light and sound.

Months after it all started, weeks after his life was saved, Don was doing just that, staring at the bookshelf. 

“Hey,” Leo called from the door. “Just checking up on you. You’ve been quiet all day.”

"Yeah, I’m just… thinking,” Don replied listlessly.

Leonardo hovered by the door for a bit before coming further into the lab. “We’re going to spar this evening, and Master Splinter wants you to work out with him while we do. Gotta work up your muscle tone again.” He smiled softly. “Body and spirit and mind all being fed into one another and whatnot, after all.”

“Yeah, I’ll be there,” Don said, rubbing at his face. “Just… still feeling like all three of those pieces aren’t quite there yet.”

“You’re way too hard on yourself, Don, come on,” Leo said, putting a firm hand on Don’s shoulder. “It’ll all come in time.”

For a moment, Don simply wanted to sit there. But, slowly, he rose to his feet. “Yeah, yeah… I just wish I got the feeling myself, you know? Just _something_ telling me that I…”

He trailed off, staring intently forward at the book shelf.

After the silence carried on for a few beats, Leo tilted his head. “Don? What? What is it–”

Without explanation, Don reached forward and pulled a book out from the shelf. He almost felt he was on autopilot, flipping the pages of his book until he came to the right page and–

“Oh my god,” Leo whispered. “Did you just…?”

Slowly, Don nodded his head, then looked in amazement toward his brother. “Leo,” he whispered. “I did. I just..” he grabbed the object and held it up. “I remembered where my key was. It wasn’t luck. It wasn’t deduction. I _knew!”_

Not waiting a second longer, Leo threw his arms around Don’s neck and pulled him into a tight hug. Don returned it, clutching his long lost key as tightly as he could.

Things were slow, things probably _weren’t_ going to ever be the same.

But Don ultimately didn’t lose anything. 

Only gained. 

They all did. 


End file.
